


Drugged Poets Society

by undasrego



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 80s culture, Alex's landline is the real hero of the story, Get ready for a rollar coaster, Hamilton is a boring bitch and John is a malevolent slut, Hope you like drugs because guess what, I don't know, I'm using 40s slang for the drugs even though the story is set in the 80s because my meat is huge, Is there a murder in this?, M/M, Maybe. You don't know., No real defined relationships, We stan them both though, almost elmas?, figure it out yourselves, lotta sex though, so much, there is lots of drugs in this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 34
Words: 110,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undasrego/pseuds/undasrego
Summary: Disclaimer: Just because I write it, doesn't mean it is necessarily my opinion.It's the late 70s. Alex is a Vietnam war vet who eats a TV dinner every night. His life consists of dishwashing and spending his Friday nights drinking the same beer at a queer bar and avoiding conversation with the people around him. Something changes when he meets John Laurens though. John Laurens is a weasel of a man and nothing but trouble. And God, he's hot too. Alex had been living a monotonous life for months now, so what's a little trouble?
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 101
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of the plastic seal on a TV dinner sounded like music to Alex when he first got home from the war. Every night he’d stare into his freezer, and he’d have his own choice of what to eat. Would it be steak and tater tots? Meatloaf and potatoes? Macaroni and cheese? He didn’t care, really, but the idea that he had a choice in what he ate was euphoric enough to make the heavily processed, salt and sugar-loaded meals taste like something he had picked up in the business district. He didn’t go out very much though. He didn’t like to go out.

It was fall, in seventy-eight, and Alex was very much the opposite of what phase New York had fallen into. Alex knew, not too long ago, New York belonged to the immigrants seeking asylum from world war two, and to the drug addicts, looking for any back alley to push or shoot up. Something had changed over the years though. With the ever-growing threat of the cold war, plus the invention of the credit card, America had turned into a consumerist safe haven where everything was affordable. Fur coats were on layaway, bubblegum was being popped and valley girls were thriving. As Alex walked home from the store, he could see women working out in leg warmers and spandex in the grainy televisions that were so delicately placed in store windows. It felt like everywhere he went, it just screamed ‘sale! Sale! Sale!’ It wasn’t the New York he had first arrived in fifteen years ago.

Sometimes, when Alex went downtown, he could stop by Stonewall. He kid himself into thinking he could still see the dinks in the concrete from those bricks being thrown. That was a fight he was too young and too stupid to participate in. When his fourteen-year-old self had seen pictures of drag queens in the newspapers, throwing bricks at cops, he simply muttered ‘fags’ and threw the paper away.

In his mind, joining the army was the way to prove his manhood, especially in a time where faggot and queer found their way into Alex’s mind, taunting him. At age eighteen, while the Vietnam war raged, he signed up and was almost immediately sent over to the barren jungle wasteland. He fought for five years until it ended in seventy-three. The march out of the camp, to the boats and planes that would take them home, it felt like the death marches that the Jewish people did in the holocaust. At least to Alex it did. He had never done a death march, not one run by Hitler at least, but his mother had.

Alex’s mother was dead. And he was okay with that. While she was alive, she had probably been his least favorite person in the world. As an adult, he looked back on that with shame. It wasn’t her fault she was the way she was. It wasn’t her fault that whenever Alex would do something wrong, she’d beat him until he bled. She had been raised in a concentration camp in Germany, and violence was all she knew.

Alex hadn’t been born in either Germany or New York. He had Israel as a birthplace, but immigrated to America in hopes of a better life at age thirteen, in sixty-three. Many holocaust survivors came straight to New York, and Alex would see them at synagogues. Some were simply shells of people. They were like his mother. Some though offered Alex kindness. Once, Alex asked why all of the kids in the synagogue were about his age, and a man named Jacob told him that once the camps were liberated, everyone had a meal and got married to the first person they could find. Alex assumed that how his mother and father got together, but of course, his father had never really wanted to stick around to see what Alex had become.

In a way, it was probably good. Alex, throughout his childhood, could barely handle one parent’s shell shock ridden rage, so two might’ve killed him.

Shell shock, or as some people are now calling it, PTSD, supposedly isn’t genetic. It can’t be passed down. But Alex disagreed with that. His mother never spoke to a physiatrist, and she had no friends, so Alex was who she talked to. As a little kid, he heard stories of his mother being raped and beaten by Nazi soldiers. He listened to stories of her watching her sister's breasts get cut off. Stories of the gas chambers, the crowded trains, the broken bones and starvation that caked his mother’s bones. She had a picture of herself after the camp was liberated. When Alex saw it, he didn’t tell her that she looked like two shoelaces tied together, he had enough sense at that time in his life to hold his tongue, but he was thinking it.

Because of all the gruesome details, his mother shared with him, his childhood and his teen years were wrecked with recurring nightmares. He’d watch faceless men rape his mother, cut off her breasts, knock her teeth out.

His mother had to wear dentures after the camp was liberated because she only had about three teeth left, and dentures were easier and cheaper than dental surgery. Alex had cried himself to sleep the night she had told him most of her teeth were lost when Nazi soldiers shoved the skirt she was wearing into her mouth so she wouldn’t scream.

Alex knew the holocaust was a terrible thing, and he knew it was important to remember, but he wished his mother had never told him any of that stuff. He wished she had never said anything. He wished, instead of shooting herself when he was sixteen, she had shot herself soon after he was born, and then maybe he wouldn’t have the pain of knowing what agony she suffered in her years at the camp.

The Vietnam war was, besides his attempt to push down the queerness he feared for the mass majority of his teen years, a way to get back at the Nazis for what they did. That’s how he saw it. America had helped save the Jewish people, his mother, from the concentration camps, so why would they have a war that would hurt them? He remembered his angry general yelling ‘go kill the yellow man!’ as they charged into battle. He remembered his Vietnamese friend, and fellow soldier, whom he shared a tent with. It was a war against nothing, and only now did Alex know that.

It’s why there were so many protesters. So many people spitting on his service. He had never understood how people could distrust America, not until he came back from the war. He wished he hadn’t left. Or he wished he had fought in world war two, and liberated the concentration camps. He wished he had saved his mother and taken her to get a meal and made sure she lived a good life. He wished he had done some sort of good in his life. So far, he really hadn’t. He had gotten average grades, no clubs or sports. He wasn’t particularly good looking, far from rich, and he had never volunteered ever. The only thing he could put on his resume was a few dishwasher jobs and five years of service.

He hadn’t gotten a real job since the war had ended. He was living off of the money he had made and never spent during the military, as well as the side cash he made as a dishwasher in Chinatown. It wasn’t a lot, but between that, the severance he had gotten paid for a year, and his frugal life-style, it was lasting. He was lucky enough to have a pretty cheap apartment. His mother had bought it, and he had lived there since he moved to America. It was a two-bedroom in east Manhattan, in Greenwich. It was clean, neat, and had very little character. Alex supposed it never had. His mother had worked three jobs, so pictures on the walls had never been her main concern. Alex held that same character. He had no formal education in art or any education at all. He could probably tell you who painted the Mona Lisa, and maybe sort of begin to pronounce who painted Starry Night, but art of any kind, renaissance to baroque, to the modern art that Andy Warhol was currently working on, it didn’t interest him.

He probably would’ve been a good white-collar worker. He had the depressed muted personality that laughed at bad water cooler jokes, and he was smart enough to work the clunky Apple computer and make a spreadsheet. He didn’t want to work a job like that, because then he’d have to come to terms with the kind of person he was, which was uninteresting. If he worked a job like that, he’d get a wife, have two kids, move to the suburbs, get a dog, and die of heart disease at sixty. That way of life was too American for him. He didn’t want to be American. He didn’t want to be American. Felt disrespectful. He didn’t know to what, maybe his mother, but it did.

So, Alex woke up at nine, got to his job as a dishwasher around eleven, stayed until seven, then came home and unwrapped the epitome of America, which was one of those deliciously processed TV dinners, and then spent the next couple of hours watching infomercials until he decided it was time to go to bed. He didn’t drink or do drugs, and instead, let himself get high on the smell of fry oil and raw sewage in the back alley behind the Chinese restaurant he worked at. He’d smoke with one of the cooks, but there was a language barrier, so their conversation consisted of pointing at women on the street and making crude gestures of what they would do to her. All of the women Alex pointed out were way out of his league, but that was the point.

He didn’t like his life. Alex wasn’t suicidal by any means, no, but he just wasn’t too happy with his life. To fix that unhappiness, he had started spending his Friday nights in queer bars in downtown Manhattan. He didn’t really know why. He didn’t talk to anyone or let them flirt with him, he just drank a few beers and then left. One of the waitresses at his work had told him, in her broken English, that he was in a rut. If Alex had been fluent in Chinese, he would’ve told her he had always been in a rut. But he didn’t speak Chinese, so he just nodded to her.

He was at a queer bar now. It was a new one, so the name was something he didn’t catch, but he was sure it had to do with feathers, as the decor was made up of the stuff. Alex didn’t know why he only drank at queer bars. Maybe he hoped someone would pick him up and he would end his streak of regaining his virginity. Maybe he hoped someone would take pity on him and talk to him. Both those ideas scared the shit out of him.

“Every Friday night, you come here.”

Alex looked up from his half-finished, and bad, beer, at the man who had just sat down next to him. Greasy black hair that would’ve probably been more than just wavy had it been washed in the past two weeks, and almond-shaped eyes. “Pardon?”

The man offered Alex a movie star esque smile, showing off his almost yellowed teeth. “You come here every Friday night, drink two beers and leave.” He downed a shot, making a bitter face. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The man smiled again, lips together this time, which Alex was grateful for. He didn’t like yellow teeth, because it reminded him of his mother’s dentures. “No, not in the slightest. I’m John Laurens.”

John Laurens would come to be Alex’s biggest mistake and greatest success. Alex would come to be John Laurens’ first real friend. Neither of them knew that at the moment though. All Alex knew was that a slightly attractive, but awkward-looking man has placed himself beside him, and is sparking a conversation. All John knew was that the goofballs in his system had worn off and he was both horny and a little tired.

John was sharp in all the ways Alex wasn’t. He had a quick voice and a wicked tongue coated thickly in a sharp New York accent, with jagged and abrupt movements that no one expected. His bones stuck out enough to where he could have probably replaced a classroom skeleton in a college, and if it weren’t for the penis, no one would notice. He was dirty, greasy, and he stunk of sweat and the subway system. He never wore clothes that fit him either. His tee-shirts were always just a bit too loose, his jeans a bit too long, and his olive green trench coat just a bit too incapable of staying up on his shoulders. He was the type of person people crossed the street to avoid. He was the type of person Alex crossed the street to avoid. But here at the bar, there was no street to cross, so Alex decided it would be best he introduced himself.

“I’m Alexander Hamilton.”

“Hamilton.” John nodded. “Fuckin’ weird last name, eh?”

“It was my father’s,” Alex responded, not even flinching at John’s words.

“Fuck your father for giving you such a weird last then.” John held up a finger and was quickly given a beer. He wasn’t attractive in the slightest, so Alex figured he must have an in or something with the bar. “What was your mother’s last name?”

“Levine.”

“I like that better than Hamilton.” John sipped his beer again, then placed his boney almost grey hand on Alex’s thigh. “How about, instead of you drinking that beer like it’s the elixir of life, we go out in the back alley and have a smoke.”

Going out in the back alley and having a smoke was always code for something else, and Alex knew that when he nodded. Some part of him was convinced that he nodded because he knew that.

Alex let John’s arm wrap around his waist, and he let John pull him out a side door and into the alley. He let John push him up against a wall, and stand much to close for him to be simply wanting a smoke. But, as he promised, he produced two cigarettes from his pocket.

“Say ah,” he teased.

Alex smiled, letting his head fall to the side a bit, before gently parting his lips. John placed the cigarette between his teeth, and then lit it, before doing the same for himself. He used one arm to prop himself against the brick wall, successfully pinning Alex against it. His knee ended up between Alex’s thighs, just slightly teasing Alex with the idea of something being so close to where he needed it to be, but not quite.

“What do you do?” John asked, his voice low as he blew smoke out of the side of his mouth.

“As a job?”

“Sure.” John said it like it wasn’t what he meant, but didn’t want to explain to Alex the answer he wanted to hear.

“I’m a dishwasher.” Alex took a hit off the cigarette. “Over in China town. What about you?”

“I’m a doctor.”

“No, you’re not.”

John chuckled, taking another hit off the cigarette. “You’re right, I’m not.” John leaned in a little closer and planted a small kiss on the side of Alex’s mouth. “How about I’m whatever you want me to be right now?”

“Who says I want you to be anything?” Alex gave John a cocky smile.

John, quite boldly as Alex would put it, reached down and grabbed the space between Alex’s legs, humming with satisfaction at the sound it brought from Alex’s throat. “Come on now, Hamilton, you know I didn’t really just want a smoke.”

Alex took a sharp breath in. “I thought you said Hamilton was ugly.”

“Eh. Your face makes up for it.”

The blowjob John delivered made Alex reminiscent of his military days. Ironically, he joined the military to be more of a man, and to stop living a life where the idea of cock in his mouth was a good one, and instead, he ended up finding more queer people in his camp than he did on the streets of New York. Oh, God, how he had decided to just come to terms with how he was in Vietnam, because some of the men there were beautiful, and weren’t exactly stiff for the women. Alex, since the war ended, always found himself laughing at the state-sponsored propaganda showing stoic men coming home from the war and kissing their wife and being with their kids. Most men came home from the war queer and broken.

John got off his knees and smiled at a breathless Alex. “Yeah?”

“Fuck,” Alex muttered, putting himself away and looking to John. “You want something?”

John shook his head. “I’m good. Got some things I need to do, people I need to meet.” John lit up another cigarette. “And you know, you kind of looked like you needed something. Figured I might as well help you out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” John chuckled. “You keep showing up here on Fridays, I’m sure we’ll see each other again. If you don’t, I can take a hint.”

Alex laughed.

John cracked his back and then began walking out of the alleyway. “Until next time, Hamilton.”

“Until next time.”

John left, and Alex went inside the bar. He ordered another beer and drank it, then found some young face with long legs. He was from Ohio, uh-huh. Oh, you live in the upper west side? Wow, that’s really cool. How’s college going? Oh, wow, an art major, that’s really interesting. Hey, you want to get outta here? Yeah, we can go to my place. Yeah, I have condoms.

Alex didn’t know where the confidence had come from, but after getting your cock sucked in a back alley by a man you didn’t know, it gave you a bit of confidence. Alex took the pretty face back to his apartment, nodding at the information he’d forget by tomorrow. Alex hoped the kid wouldn’t stay after they did it. Alex’s apartment in the daylight gave much more information into his character. And that information was that there wasn’t much character, to begin with.

The kid didn’t though. They smoked a cigarette after they slept together, and then the kid bummed the subway fare and left. Alex was grateful for that. Something about waking up to someone in his bed. He didn’t like the idea of it. This was his space. When he woke up, he wanted it to remain that way.

Alex worked on Saturdays too. Most of the time, he’d show up hungover and would smoke while washing the dishes, leaving cigarette holes in the dishrags. It’s why he wasn’t allowed to go near the food. Smoking was something Alex usually needed to get through the job, and his boss would rather have the health inspector find rat shit in the freezer than have a customer have the taste of cigarettes in their food. Felt like everything tasted like cigarettes these days, at least to Alex.

Usually, he didn’t bring lunch to work. He’d scarf down some rejected or messed up order and then get back to work. He didn’t mind the job. It reminded him of being a child. He had always worked jobs like this, jobs reserved for the untouchables. The people with no college education, barely a high school diploma. Alex knew though, that if he didn’t do his job, all hell would break loose. The rich people who yell at the waiters would most likely starve without them.

Alex, while washing dishes, thought back to something that pretty face had said last night. Something about AIDS. Apparently, more and more people have been getting it recently. It didn’t surprise Alex, between the growing amount of queers in big cities, plus the junk pushers, something like this was bound to happen. Still, it was shit.

That Saturday night, Alex heated up a TV dinner and then sat down on his couch, turning on the TV and watching his infomercials. Mindless consumer propaganda filled his mind as he ate. He thought of it as a lullaby. America’s lullaby of buy-sale-diet-beauty-credit-consume, singing him into a haze of boredom until he finally went to bed. 


	2. Sex and Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stated this in the description, but I'm saying it again. Just because it is in my writing, does NOT necessarily mean it is something I believe.

Chapter two

Alex didn’t see John for another four weeks. What little medical training Alex had gotten in the army made him assume that John was dead. Yellowing teeth, underweight, drinking habits like that, bloodshot eyes, John was most likely, in Alex’s mind, an alcoholic with liver failure and a lack of self-respect. Most likely homeless too.

Because of the fear he had surrounding the news he’d been hearing about people getting aids, Alex got tested for an STD a week after his hookup with John. He was clean, surprisingly. If he were to catch something from anyone, it might as well be the greasy bum in the queer bar in lower east side.

Alex kept going back though. It’s not like he was looking for this snake of a man, or at least that’s what he told himself, but he always hated the idea of being some middle-aged fuck with nothing better to do, sitting at home on a Friday night, drinking beer and beating his wife. His neighbor certainly had no problem with that, and since the walls were thin and Alex didn’t want to be there when his wife finally snapped and killed the prick, he left.

One thing about beer, which wasn’t Alex’s favorite aspect, was it made you have to pee. He supposed that happened with all liquids, but most of the time he could piss in the comfort of his own home. Public bathrooms scared the ever-living shit out of him. Between the germs, the loose needles on the floor, the couple having sex in the only stall, Alex wasn’t exactly looking forward to them. Also, he hated the idea of pissing in the open. Too scary.

It must’ve been his lucky night because there was a stall open. He stepped in and locked it, dropping his pants a bit and beginning the action. There was much to do, and he had about a bottle and a half of beer in his bladder, so it wasn’t a drip and dip kind of situation. Instead of staring at his own dick, he killed time by reading the writing on the walls. You could call Tommy at this number for a cock ring and a good time, Darron from the bar has an eight-inch cock and knows how to use it, Elias and Scott are going to be together forever. Alex was just about to walk out of the stall when two people walked in.

“Shit, stalls in use,” one of them muttered. “Come on, real quick.”

“I’ll fuck you up if this shit isn’t ten.”

“Yeah, fuck off.” Some rustling filled the bathroom, and then one of them left. Alex decided it best he leaves the stall now, go wash his hands. He found the person who had stayed, splashing water on his face, hunched over one of the two sinks. From the greasy hair to the dirty olive green army jacket, he quickly realized who it was.

“John,” he started.

John looked up, then smiled in a satisfied sort of smile. “Ah, Hamilton. Would you look at that?” John leaned against the bathroom counter while Alex washed his hands. “And what are you doing here?”

“In the bathroom?”

John nodded.

“Pissing.”

John hummed, looking at the door a moment, before looking back to Alex. “Come on, be for real with me. You like tea?”

Alex creased his brows at the question. “I mean, a cup of chamomile usually puts me to bed, but-”

“No, no, I mean like, tea.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “I’m lost.”

John stuck his hand in Alex’s pocket and pulled Alex closer to him. Personal space issues were obviously nowhere near John’s personality. Alex could almost smell the vodka and cigarettes on his breath. John looked back to the door one more time before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small glass jar, about the size of Alex’s thumb.

“Come on, gorgeous. Tea.” John smiled, shaking the jar a bit.

“Oh, oh, tea.” Alex stared at the pot in the little glass vile. “Tea.”

He wasn’t exactly unbeknownst to the idea of marijuana. In the army, there was a lot of it. He never smoked any on base, because contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t stupid. In fact, he had never smoked any at all, unless one mouthful of smoke in middle school counted, but he liked to think it didn’t.

“Now, don’t get all stupid with me.” John put the glass jar away. “I ain’t no fucking tea head. But I know how to have fun.”

Alex chuckled. “I gotta admit, I haven’t really had tea in about twelve years.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not.”

“How you been working a low paying job in New York without smoking tea, huh? When I was a dishwasher, I couldn’t sleep at night unless I smoked.” John laughed. “Used to, to get really high and eat all my fuckin’ leftovers, and then the next day I had to get scraps from the kitchens I worked in.”

Alex laughed. “I was in the military for a while. I dunno, just never was stupid enough to smoke in a tent next to my commander.”

John’s face hardened. “In Nam?”

Alex nodded.

“Fuck that.” John pushed Alex away a bit. “You fuckin’ murderer.”

“Hey.” Alex creased his brows. “I didn’t want to be there any more than most of the people I was fighting next to did.”

“Yeah, well you still went over there and, and-” John switched into a bad Texas accent. “Killed the yellow-man! Yee-haw!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Alex shook his head. “Wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah, it never was, huh?” John shook his head. “State-backed murder, can you fucking believe?”

“Yeah, well I thought it wasn’t.”

“What, you thought the American government had more than just war criminals and racists in it?” John laughed. “Don’t fucking kid me. They don’t care about me, they don’t care about you.”

“I know that now.” Alex shook his head. “Just, for a while, I thought this country went to war for good reasons.”

“Why the fuck would you think some bullshit like that? We ain’t ever had.” John laughed, pulling out a pack up cigarettes.

“I mean, they liberated the concentration camp my mom was in, so, just thought maybe they had a good reason to go to war with Vietnam.”

Usually, when Alex brings up his mother being in the camps, people get this pathetic look on their faces, as if their sympathy could erase years upon years of trauma both Alex and his mother endured. Usually, they ask if she’s okay, to which he responds by telling them she’s dead. And then they ask if he’s okay, and say that they’re so sorry for his loss, and Alex has to grit and say thank you instead of explaining that he loved his mother, but he hated her too. So, when John laughed in his face, it was a bit shocking.

“It’s not funny.”

“No, actually, it is.” John lit his cigarette. “It’s funny you think our government saw all the Jews getting murdered and actually felt pity. We would’ve had no part in that if our allies didn’t.” John took a long drag from his cigarette. “The US did something they had to, and then acted like they wanted, and pretended to give a shit about your starving mother. Didn’t care for shit.” John spat on the floor.

Alex was quiet.

“You got way too much ignorance when it comes to this country. You think they would actually look up from their giant fucking-” John kicked the wall. “Fucking jerk off session to notice you’re bleeding?”

“I thought it was different.”

“Never is.” John coughed a bit. “Just because we’re the land of the free don’t mean we ain’t got propaganda in every corner of our country. Fuck the queers, fuck the immigrants, fuck the Jews, fuck the black folk, fuck the everything. They don’t give half a fuck about us.”

“Think they ever will?”

“Doubt it.” John took a long drag from his cigarette, leaning against the counter. “You’re still a murderer.”

Alex didn’t know what to say to that.

John cracked his back, then handed Alex the lit cigarette. “Take a hit.”

“Why?”

“It has a little bit of tea in it. It’ll help you stop looking like you got a stick shoved up your ass.” John handed the cigarette over to Alex, who obliged with John’s request. It gave John a satisfied sort of look to see Alex physically relax, as well as the audacity to say, “Looks like you’ve gotten laid since the last time I saw you.”

Alex scoffed. “Beeswax.”

John held up his hands, taking back the cigarette and placing it between his lips. “Alright, alright. Never mind then. I was just saying.”

“You’re full of it, you know that?”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” John smiled cheekily, rubbing the facial hair on Alex’s chin. “You know, you’re kind of cute. Or, you would be if you grew out your hair.”

Alex ran his hand over his military buzz cut. “Yeah?”

John nodded. “You look like you enjoyed your time over there. You should grow it out. See how it suits you.” John subconsciously touched his own greasy long black hair, humming a bit. “I bet you’d look good.”

“Oh yeah?”

John smiled, taking a step closer. “Yeah.”

“Do I look good now?”

“Well, I don’t know.” John leaned closer to Alex, fiddling with the bottom of Alex’s untucked Tommy Bahama. “You got all your clothes on. How am I supposed to know if you look good if I ain’t even seen the rest of you?”

“You a little shit, you know that?” Alex muttered, practically tasting the cigarettes on John’s breath.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

Alex knew they were about to kiss, when two men in brightly colored clothes burst into the bathroom, making out. They didn’t offer John or Alex a glance as they went into the stall and locked the door.

“Fucking faggots,” John muttered, taking another hit of his cigarette as quiet moaning began to fill the bathroom. “You got a place to yourself?”

Alex nodded.

“You wanna go back to it?”

“With you?”

“No, with the two guys in the stall.” John rolled his eyes. “Yes with me, dumbass.”

“To do what?”

John was about to answer, but then a very loud moan was emitted into the air by one of the men in the stall, and the sound of skin on skin filled the room. John laughed, pulling Alex out of the bathroom. He pulled out a tin cigarette case, one with a scantily clad girl telling him to buy bonds, and then handed Alex a cigarette. It was hand-rolled, and Alex could taste the hints of marijuana in it.

“I want some Chinese food. Are you hungry?” John asked. “I know a good place nearby.”

Alex wasn’t, he had chosen a quite hearty microwave dinner that night, with lots of processed cheese and mystery meats, but John seemed like he could almost be a friend, so Alex just nodded, following John down the street.

“I hate queer bars,” John admitted, his voice almost bitter. That’s one thing Alex truly noticed about John. He never said anything in a tone any less than bitter and angry. Even when he was smiling, Alex felt like John might decide to pull out a gun and shoot him.

“Why?” Alex was curious about this. He wondered why the man who had uttered ‘fucking faggots’ had been the same man who most likely wanted to hook up with him.

“Full of faggots, the lot of them. All you find in queer bars are faggots.”

“Well, I have some news about queer bars,” Alex started.

“Nah, fuck off with that shit. There’s a difference between being a faggot and being queer. I’m queer but I ain’t no fuckin’ faggot. You ain’t a faggot either.” John gave Alex a hard look, one that made Alex decide not to argue. “I fucking hate faggots.”

“A lot of people call themselves faggots,” Alex pointed out.

“And that don’t mean they are faggots.”

“What’s the difference?”

“You know the difference.”

“I don’t.”

John scoffed. “Come on, you really don’t see the difference between those fishnet cock ring wearing, limp wrister wannabe valley girls and us? You and me? We ain’t faggots. We could walk down the street and ain’t no one is giving us looks the way faggots get. That don’t make us any less queer, but neither of us is faggots.”

“If I was a faggot, would you still talk to me?”

“Fuck no. Can’t stand their voices.” John snickered. “You like Chinese food?”

“Can’t live in New York if you don’t.”

John smiled, and Alex almost thought it was genuine. “That’s right. You don’t got a bad head on your shoulders, you know that?”

Alex didn’t respond, but let himself smile at the bit of praise.

The Chinese restaurant was a tall and skinny building. The air itself was thick with grease, and the tables were dirty. The workers spoke broken English, which excited Alex. He knew he was about to get some really good Chinese food. John grabbed Alex by the back of his tee-shirt, guiding him like a lost puppy up to the counter. Alex didn’t know why John’s show of dominance made his knees feel funny, but he tried to ignore it.

“Nee how.” John’s Americanized Chinese was almost laughable. He spoke the words with too much pronunciation, his accent dictating how it sounded. “Two-” he held up two fingers. “Two number fives.” He held up five fingers, then looked to Alex. “Number five is spicy. You okay with that?”

Alex nodded.

John looked back to the man at the counter, who was writing the order. “Spicy.”

The man nodded, smiling a big smile at John and giving a thumbs up. “Be out soon.”

“See see.”

Alex didn’t know Chinese, but by the way the man at the counter laughed to himself as he turned to start the order, he figured John had butchered the language. It was a bit endearing though, to see John try. They sat down at a table, and Alex watched John spread out. Legs apart, shoulders back, slouched in his chair, one arm on the backrest of the chair next to him. John seemed to take up space wherever he went. He was big, even if he could probably blow away in a strong wind.

“So, do you eat here often?” Alex asked.

John smiled. “What is this? One-eight-hundred-shitty-pick up-lines?”

“Just asking.”

John paused for a moment, smiling lightly at Alex. “When I want to.”

Alex looked around. “I don’t think I’ve been here before. Usually, when I eat Chinese, I eat at the place I work, because it’s free.”

“You see how the sausage gets made and you don’t even care?” John snickered.

“I dunno.” Alex shrugged a bit. “I don’t really care.”

John smiled, then got up and grabbed their orders from the counter. Even though they were eating in the restaurant, their orders were given to them in small styrofoam boxes, with plastic forks and disposable napkins. Alex opened up his food and began to eat it. It was really good, and he could see why John liked it.

“Where do you live?” John asked, not touching his food.

“Lower east side.”

“Jewish neighborhood.”

Alex nodded. “Yup. Used to live there with my Ma.”

“Oh yeah?” John lit up a cigarette. “What happened to her?”

“Dead.”

“Dead.” John nodded. “Yeah, most mothers seem to be nowadays, huh? What happened to yours? Heroin? AIDs? Cancer?” John snickered. “Some people say cigarettes give you cancer.”

“Bullshit,” Alex muttered. “It’s just propaganda by liquor companies.”

“See? Exactly.” John took another drag off of his cigarette. “But really, what happened?”

“My mother loved to remodel our apartment.” Alex thought for a moment. “Yeah, she was always moving the furniture and shit. One day, she decided she hated the color of the walls, so she took a pistol repainted them with her own brains.”

“That’s shit.”

“Yeah.”

“You find her?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

John was quiet for a moment, thinking, then he stood up. He went over and grabbed a pen, writing something down a receipt and then setting it on the table where Alex sat. “Take my order home, and eat it for breakfast, okay? I take you for one of those Jimmy Dean suckers. Eat something cold and congealed for breakfast.”

Alex picked up the receipt for a moment, seeing a messy array of numbers scribbled onto it before looking back at John. “Hey, what about you? Aren’t you hungry?”

John shook his head as if the question Alex asked was an obvious one. “No.” He smiled. “Alright, I’m gonna scram. Get scarce before it gets too late.”

Alex was almost confused. “Weren’t we gonna…?”

“Nah, not tonight. Not feeling it.” John chuckled. “Come on though, we’ll see each other again. Enjoy the food.”

Alex swallowed, humming. “Yeah, alright.”

John paused for a moment, and then placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder, in a tender sort of way. “Alright, you take care.”

“You too.”

John looked like a really bad wizard as he left the Chinese place, his trench coat flapping with every step, his combat boots clomping on the dirty tile floor. 


	3. New York Telephone Conversation

Alex twisted the cord of his telephone as it rang. He sat in the kitchen, the long cord stretched from where the receiver on the wall was, to Alex’s kitchen chair. The messy, grease-stained receipt was in front of him. Alex hummed as it rang, waiting for something. He most likely expected someone he didn’t know to pick up, ask him who the hell he was, calling at two in the morning, and then hang up.

“This is John.”

Alex almost smiled. “John, hey.”

There was a moment on over the static infused line where John didn’t reply. “I’m sorry, are we friends or something?”

“Maybe.” Alex chuckled. “It’s uh, it’s Alex. We got Chinese a week ago.”

You can’t hear smiles, but John’s Sylvester the cat smile leaked through the phone. Alex could almost see John, leaned up against the wall in nothing but a wife-beater and some boxers, hair tied up, but still just as greasy, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“Ah, Hamilton.” He let out a whisper of a laugh. “Alright, didn’t take you for one to stay up this late.”

Alex hadn’t. But the image of the back of his mother’s head, blown out and splattered against the walls, wouldn’t leave him. “Yeah, well, sometimes I surprise myself.”

“You got a reason for calling?”

Alex was quiet. He really didn’t. “Guess not.”

“Guess not.” John smiled, then said something to someone who was there, something along the lines of ‘just a friend, go back to bed.’

“You got a woman with you?” Alex asked.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it though. She’s a slut, so if I give her the hint that I don’t want her here, maybe she’ll leave.”

Alex snorted. “You think she heard you?”

“Oh yeah, I’m getting a bad look right now.” John hummed a bit, thinking. “Are you hungry?”

“I dunno.”

“You’re lower east side, right?”

“Yeah.”

John thought. “There’s a pizza place over there, Mikey’s. You ever ate there?”

Alex nodded, twisting the cord in his hand. “Yeah, I’ve eaten there.”

“You like it?”

“Didn’t hate it.”

“Yeah, me neither.” John let out a breathy chuckle. “I could be there in ten minutes you know. I don’t got anything keeping me home, and I didn’t plan on sleeping tonight. We could meet up.”

“I don’t wanna get pizza.”

“You’re like a woman.” John laughed. “Can’t make up your mind. What do you really like to eat? What did you have for dinner? That’s what I want to know. What did your murdering ass have for dinner?”

“A Swanson corned beef hash.”

John burst out laughing. “You’re fucking with me.”

Alex smiled. “I’m not.”

“You eat, hold on.” John took a breath, still laughing. “TV dinners? You eat fucking TV dinners? How often? How often do you eat TV dinners?”

“Like, every night.”

“Every night!” John began laughing again. “You’ve got to be the stupidest person I’ve ever met. You live in the lower east side of Manhattan, Heaven’s food bank, and you eat fucking… fucking TV dinners? Every night?”

Alex’s smile widened. Something about John’s insults seemed ingenuine enough to be taken as only jokes. “Yeah, every night.”

“God. Those things, those are what give you cancer. Fuck cigarettes, they don’t do shit. It’s the fucking… fucking TV dinners. Campbell Soup Company, they own Swansons. They want to give the whole American population cancer. You know that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, they do.” John paused, most likely to take another hit off of his cigarette. “It’s the whole government man. They want to kill us off, make us brain dead. The more cock sucking dead brained broke assholes they cut out of the picture, the more wealth they acquire. They want us dead. They don’t give a fuck about you, or me, or the slut in my bedroom-” John raised his voice. “-Drinking all my fucking vodka and not even saying thank you!”

From the other side of the phone, Alex could a door slam open and the sound of breaking glass. John yelled some obscenities and then told whoever was there to get the fuck out. He didn’t pick the phone back up until Alex heard a slam of the door.

“God, fucking bitch.” John laughed a bit. “Threw the fucking bottle at me.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” John snickered. “What are you wearing?”

“You’re not my prison boyfriend.”

“I could be.”

Alex tried to picture John in an orange jumpsuit. “What are _you_ wearing?”

“A thong.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is.” John snickered. “I’m wearing blue striped boxers and a Van Halen tee shirt that needs to be washed. Your turn.”

Alex looked down at himself. “White tee shirt, flannel pajama pants.”

“Sexy.” John chuckled. “Come on, baby, I’m in prison, gimme something more.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” Alex leaned back in his chair. “You know, this phone I’m using, I don’t think I’ve picked it up to actually call someone in months. Most action it’s gotten is a few telemarketers.”

“Lucky. The phone never stops ringing over here.” John coughed a bit.

“Why so?”

“Got people all around New York. You ever heard of odd job guys?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m that. Never worked a real job. Always side gigs and hustles. No bosses but myself.” John took a long breath. “I fuckin’ hate bosses. Landlords too. Just fucking… thieves.”

“Landlords and bosses are thieves?”

“Hell fucking yeah they are.” John snickered. “Bosses undercut your wages and take the leftovers for themselves. Landlords take your hard-earned money for what? So you can not be thrown out on the street? Fuckin’ bullshit, if you ask me.”

Alex nodded. He liked the things John said. John was very obviously not another blue-collar TV dinner honey-I’m-home kind of person. He saw the US as one big country of propaganda and poison. Alex didn’t know this about John yet, but John had once glued the mayor's door shut in protest of one thing or another. John never trusted anyone who wore a tie. If you got paid above minimum wage, you could practically see the hackles on John’s back raise. He didn’t trust the people who trusted the man. It was intriguing.

“Yeah.” Alex just agreed. It was easier that way because John was probably smarter than him.

John was quiet for a moment, thinking. “What was it like?”

“What?”

“War? How did it make you feel?”

Alex stiffened. “You really wanna talk about this?”

“I wanna know.”

Alex thought for a moment. “Bad, and good, but mostly bad.”

“Why good?”

Alex smiled softly. “There some people, the people I was fighting with, they were real good people. It was nice to have them.”

“Why bad?”

“Because war isn’t good.” Alex swallowed. “Left behind guys I knew to die. Didn’t want to, but I had to. God, it was just… it was bad.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Alright.” John took a long inhale from his cigarette. “You lived in lower east side your whole life? Or just after you got back?”

“I mean, I ain’t even lived in America my whole life.” Alex hummed. “But yeah, since we got here, we been in this apartment. Just me now, but my ma picked it out.”

“Same one she met God in?”

“Very same.”

“Never bought into the concept of God.” John swallowed. “My Pa, he used to beat the shit out of me as a kid, then turned to God and shit, expected me to forgive him. Fuck that. I hope God didn’t forgive him either. I hope the bastard goes to Hell when he dies.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You hope your mom’s in Hell?”

“Hell’s a Christian concept, John.” Alex snickered.

“Oh yeah, Jewish.” John thought for a moment. “What’s it like being Jewish in America?”

“Bad.” Alex scratched at a food stain on his table, trying to get it off. “No matter where you are, if you’re Jewish, you’re probably treated bad.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because we don’t eat pork and charged interest.”

John scoffed. “That’s bullshit.”

“It is.” Alex took a breath. “I should sleep.”

“You want to?”

“No.”

John was quiet for a very long time, thinking. Alex could hear John smoking on the other line, the deep breaths, and the coughs. John seemed to always be smoking, no matter where you were. “Where are you?”

“Just sitting at my kitchen table.”

“Alright. Can your phone reach your bedroom?”

“No.”

“Couch?”

“No.” Alex thought for a moment. “But I can move it. Downstairs neighbors might wanna fuck me up tomorrow for moving furniture around at two am, but I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, alright, go, move your couch so you can reach the phone. Get a blanket and a pillow.”

“Alright, one second.” Alex set the phone on the table and walked to his living room. The apartment itself was pretty open, so it was a straight shot, but Alex still found it getting snagged on the wood to tile floor transition. When he got it into the kitchen, he grabbed his pillow and blanket from his bed and came into the kitchen. He laid down, then grabbed the phone again. “Hey, I’m back.”

“Are you comfortable?” John asked.

“Yeah, I’m comfortable.” Alex didn’t think anyone had ever asked him that. It was new. Between his mother who couldn’t have given a rats ass about his comfort, and the army, who didn’t care in the first place, he was the only one who had ever confirmed his comfort.

“Alright, lemme sit down on the floor. My phone’s in the fucking hallway, so there’s nothing I can get in here.” John paused for a moment, grunting. “Alright, let me tell you a story huh? Your mother ever do that for you?”

“Nah.”

“Really?”

“Really. Did yours?”

John let out a laugh, but Alex could almost picture John’s soft smile and blushing face. “My mother was the closest thing we got to the Virgin Mary. She was a saint in every way. She didn’t die, she was just lifted into heaven.”

“What got her?”

“Overdose.”

“Shit. On purpose?”

“Don’t think so. She didn’t leave a note, and she always said she wanted to die in her yellow sundress. She looked so beautiful in that dress.”

“What’d she die in?”

“Ripped up tee shirt, with her underwear still at her ankles, in a bathtub covered in blood in the back of the trailer we lived in.”

“What happened?”

“None of us really know. She either had a miscarriage and shot up, or shot up and had a miscarriage.”

“Not very Virgin Mary-like.”

John's voice got hard and angry, like Alex had just pissed on his mother’s grave. “The fuck you even know about her, huh? We all got issues, Alex, but she was a good person. You didn’t know her like I did.”

“Sorry, sorry, you’re right.”

“Yeah.” John was quiet, swallowing hard. “Alright, what do you want to hear about?”

“I don’t care.” Alex closed his eyes, balancing the phone on the side of his face. The kitchen light was still on, but he didn’t bother with it. “Tell me something happy though. Don’t wanna think about nothing but shit tonight.”

“Alright, yeah, that’s fair.” John thought for a moment. “My brother and I-”

Alex interjected, his curiosity spiking. “You have a brother?”

“I had two.”

“Had?”

John scoffed. “You’re interrupting.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Alright, well, my brother and I, we uh, we used to have BB guns. They were the best. We’d uh, we’d run around and we’d fuckin’... we’d fuckin’ shoot squirrels and shit, the neighbors chickens.”

“You sound like you grew up somewhere far away from New York,” Alex mumbled, his words slurring with exhaustion.

“Maybe I did.” John was quiet. “Anyway, he and I, we’d always, we’d shoot at each other, and we’d just miss, just to scare the other one.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah, we were pretty fucking stupid.” John chuckled. “Anyway, so, my brother, he was younger than me, right? So, we’re out int he woods on day, and I’m in just a pair of overalls and some work boots, because it was fucking hot, and all that shit. And my brother, he was this little thing at the time. So my brother, he sees me stalking this rabbit, and he, he gets ready to just miss me right? But right as he pulls the trigger-”

“Oh, God.”

John laughed. “Right as he pulls the trigger, the rabbit moves, and I move, and he gets me right in the fucking arm.”

“How old were you guys?” Alex gasped.

“I was about sixteen, he was about nine.” John snickered. “Anyway, I was screaming like a bitch, and my brother was about to start crying, and he was like ‘don’t tell mom, I’ll let you shoot me too’ and I’m not gonna shoot my fuckin’ nine-year-old brother, because I have some fuckin’ morals. Anyway, I have to tell my mom.”

“Well, yeah, you were shot.”

“Yeah, and I totally like, I had to bite my fucking tongue off, because he’s my little brother, I don’t want to see him sad because he thinks I’m gonna die.” John laughed. “And we can’t afford a fucking hospital, we’re trailer trash with no steady stream of income. So, so, my mother, she hands me a bottle of moonshine, and she tells me to drink as much as I can. I do, and I’m skunked, just about to vomit, laying there like the world is ended. My mother, God, she puts a wooden spoon between my teeth, and then she holds a knife under a lighter, cuts my arm open a bit more, and fucking takes the bullet out.”

“Jesus fuck.”

“I know right? No stitches, nothing, so my mother, she finds some gauze and ties it around my arm, makes me drink a little more moonshine, and then puts me to bed. Next morning, I’m feeling rotten as shit, vomiting into the toilet, and you wanna know something?”

“Huh?”

“Hangover was worse than the bullet wound.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m not. I didn’t even remember I got shot until later in the day when I took off my shirt.”

Alex laughed. “God, that sounds fucking insane.”

“Yeah, my family was fucking crazy.” John sighed. “You should sleep.”

“Stay on the line.”

“I will.”

Alex closed his eyes, sighing. “I gotta ask, you coulda talked to anyone at the bar that night. What’s so special about me?”

“You’re queer, not some fucking fag. I was tired of talking to limp wristers. You were the only one who looked normal.” John snickered.

“You got the same philosophy with lesbians?”

“Nah, I ain’t ever met a lesbian I don’t like. There’s this real sweet one, you’d like her, she goes by Marty. Got her afro cut short. She's a total punk leather jacket fight the mankind of deal. I love her to death.” John hummed. “She’s just so cool.”

“Tell me about her,” Alex mumbled, feeling himself fade.

That night, Alex didn’t really learn anything about Marty, he faded off pretty quickly after that, but he did learn something about himself. He liked the sound of John’s voice, even if it sounded like he smoked fourteen packs of cigarettes a day, and had lived in New York since it was founded.

The next morning, Alex was quite confused when he woke up, for several reasons. One, the couch was in the kitchen. Two, the phone was on the floor, the wire draped over his body. And three, all the lights in the kitchen were still on. Slowly, a recollection of last name came back into his mind. John’s funny stories. Alex wondered if the bullet scar was still there.

Alex pushed the couch back into the living room, and then ate a TV dinner for breakfast. He had work in an hour, so he turned on the TV and watched the Today show. Personally, he liked the Today show. It was comfortable news, nothing ever too painful or heartbreaking to watch.

When it was time to leave, Alex got changed into some jeans and a tee-shirt, then made his way to work. The restaurant smelled the way it always did, like old Chinese food. It was good though. An order had already been sent back, and it was spicy, so it got passed to Alex. Alex loved spicy food. That was something his mother was really good at. She was an amazing cook, and always added a million spices to her foods. She once told Alex it was because the food in the camps tasted like cardboard. She never wanted to eat something plain again. So, Alex grew up eating spicy foods. He didn’t really now, but he still liked it.

Dishwashing was an art. It was often called unskilled work, but it was an art. Alex could wash dishes like no one’s business. He could clean a plate in fifteen seconds and have it sparkling. It was why Alex was kept on as a dishwasher, and it was why his boss let him smoke while he worked.

“Good afternoon, Alek.”

Alex smiled at his coworker. Her broken English reminded him of his mother, but the only difference between the two was that this woman, Kim, was much nicer. She was this older woman, who came to America when she was young but grew up in an Asian neighborhood, homeschooling Chinese. She only recently started learning English, for the restaurant business. Alex tried to help when he could.

“Hello, Kim.” Alex smiled, sticking his hands in the soapy water to begin to wash the dishes at the bottom of the sink. “How are you?”

“I’m doing fine today.” Kim took a menu from the counter. “What about you?”

Alex let out a sigh. “Well, I’m still alive.”

Kim smiled and then went out to take an order.

Work was okay. Alex didn’t hate it. It wasn’t a Friday though, so it wasn’t a night where he would head off to a bar. He didn’t want to go to a bar anyway, but something made him think twice before going home to heat up a TV dinner. John’s voice mocked him for living in the lower east side and eating TV dinners. So, before Alex went home, he picked up a pizza. That night was spent drinking beer and eating pizza on the couch, watching a VHS of a porno.


	4. Body Talks

“Hey.”

Alex smiled into the receiver at the familiar voice. “Hey.”

“I’m sick of this.”

An eyebrow raised. “Sick of what?”

“Of talking to you on the phone.”

“Well, you called me.”

John laughed. “Figured there wasn’t any other way I could get your address. Come on, I’ll bring some tea, a few pornos, pick up a pizza or two. We can hang, yeah?”

Alex thought for a moment, biting his lip to hide the smile John’s words were causing, though there was no one in the apartment to hide it from. “Yeah, yeah. You got a pen?”

“Uh, hold on.” Alex heard the phone clank on top of the receiver box and then listened to John rummage around. A few seconds later, John was back. “Yeah, alright, I got a pen. Lemme hear it.”

“Okay, I live in one-ninety-four east second street, apartment twelve B. How long you think it’s gonna take to get here?”

“I dunno, maybe half an hour? Why, you need to douche?”

Alex snickered. “Maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe.” John laughed. “Alright, I’ll be there in a bit. You don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.”

Alex hung up and looked around his apartment. It was messy. So, in the little bit of time he had, he picked up his clothes, wiped down the table, and changed into something that was comfortable but looked nice on him. He also switched the TV channel from the endless stream of infomercials to MTV. He also made sure he had enough beers, which he did, to satisfy both him and John. He had no idea how much John drank, but he hoped the sixpack in the fridge would do them justice.

John showed up looking haggard and happy. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was a greasy mess, as always, but he was smiling like he had just won the lottery. He set down the pizzas when he could, and then greeted Alex with a tight hug.

“Hey,” Alex chuckled.

John took a deep breath, smiling. “Hey.”

“Looks like someone’s happy to see me,” Alex chided a bit.

John’s eyes widened and he quickly pulled away from the hug, placing his hands in front of his crotch. “Shit, really?”

“No, John, I meant you.”

John took his hands away from his crotch. “Yeah, I knew that.”

Alex smiled, and then pulled John into the living room. “Lay eyes upon the couch I pulled into my kitchen during that one phone call so I could listen to your story.” Alex gasped, suddenly being reminded of his recent curiosity. “Oh, yeah, do you still have that scar from when you got shot?”

“Oh, yeah.” John dropped his trench coat onto the armchair and then turned so Alex could see the back of his arm.

For a moment, Alex was too distracted by the definition in John’s back and the dark skin on the back of his neck from walking in the city. The tattoo that Alex could just see poking out from John’s stained wife beater. John had a good build, regardless of how skinny he was. He had a basketball player's build, slim shoulders, slimmer hips that pants just couldn’t stay up on. Alex could see the Hanes underwear waistline poking out from the jeans. His clothes were all dirty. John was dirty. No cologne, just the stink of the streets and the liquor on his breath and sweat.

Alex drew his attention back to the scar though. It was ragged, looked like it had gotten infected a couple of times, and like it had gotten picked at a lot. He touched it, then looked to John, who was smiling wickedly over his shoulder. “Wow. Looks like it hurt.”

“It did.”

Alex wanted to drop to his knees and suck John’s dick right then and there. Something about the man being in his apartment, this close… God, Alex was sick with sexual frustration. It was like they were in a tango. Ten minutes after meeting, John had given him a really good blow job, and there had been nothing but a few flirtatious conversations ever since. Alex wanted to get fucked.

“Come on, this tea ain’t gonna smoke itself.” John pulled out a baggy filled with the stuff, and then some papers, sitting on Alex’s couch. “You smoked tea before, yeah?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, yeah, as a kid and shit.”

“Where’d you grow up? Before New York?”

“Israel,” Alex answered.

John hummed. “Home of the Jews or some shit like that, yeah?”

Alex didn’t wanna get into specifics when it came to Israel and the Jewish people, so he just nodded. “Yeah, something like that.”

John smiled. “I like you, Alex.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Even when I’m wrong you let me be right.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong very often,” Alex shrugged, sitting next to John, close enough so that their shoulders touched.

“Yeah, but you still do.” John smiled at Alex. “It’d be fuckin’ stupid if you agreed with everything I said.” He turned back to the weed. “Fuckin’ stupid. You’d be another whore who’s tryna get me to dick her at the bar. Just fuckin’... giggling and shit. Hate that. Women giggle and it’s like fuckin’ nails on a chalkboard to me.”

“So women ain’t allowed to laugh around you?” Alex muttered.

“Never said that.” John looked at Alex. “I like it when women laugh. Some of ‘em got these real nice laughs. The type of shit that’s loud and all that crap. I like that. It’s the fuckin’ giggling that makes me want to give my brain a clothing hanger abortion.” John finished rolling up the first joint, then moved onto the next. His hands were shaking. “Fuckin’ hyenas or some shit. Hate it. I don’t care if women think I’m funny or not. But don’t fuckin’ giggle ‘cause you think I’m gonna dick you.”

Alex chuckled. “You’re a real character, you know that, John?”

John gave an alluring smile to Alex, the kind that screamed ‘I sucked your dick within ten minutes of meeting you.’ The kind that didn’t help Alex’s sexual frustration. “Yeah, baby, I do know that.”

Alex didn’t know if he wanted to punch him in the face or suck him off.

“But anyway.” John turned back to the joint he was rolling, lifting it to his tongue to lick it. “Music. You got music?”

“Don’t listen to music.”

John gave Alex a look like Alex had just said ‘I once had sex with your mom and she asked me to pull out but I didn’t.’ For a moment, there was almost rage in John’s eyes. “You don’t listen to music?”

“I don’t.”

“Do you got a record player?”

Alex shook his head.

John looked back to his weed. “So, what? You wank it until it’s time to go to work?”

“No, I watch TV. There are other things to do besides touch your cock and listen to music, you know.”

“No there’s not. Nothing good.” John finished rolling that joint, then handed it to Alex. “TV is worse than TV dinners. TV dinners slowly give you cancer, while TV, it’s worse. It’s like… like they fucking just take over your brain. It’s a parasite. You don’t do anything else while watching TV do you?”

Alex shook his head.

“See?” John lit his joint and then took a long hit. “Don’t be a slave to American consumerism, Alexander Hamilton. You have a brain in there, not just a credit card.” He reached over and lit Alex’s joint. “Take a hit, let yourself disconnect from the world.”

Somewhere in Alex’s mind, there was the memory of the sweet, yet burning hot, smoke that came from burning marijuana. It wasn’t at the forefront of his brain though, so he ended up coughing. He thought John would give him shit for it, but the man was either too lazy to, or too involved in the long hit from his joint.

“Alright,” John started, standing up. “I wanna watch porn.” He went over to his jacket and pulled out a VHS and then held it up, smiling like it was a trophy. “Two hours of the finest lesbian porn you will ever see my friend.”

Alex snorted, nodding a bit.

“Yes, it has it all. Dildos, creaming, squirting, stepmothers, teachers, milfs, black, white, Asian, Latina, threeways, Fourways, orgys, gangbangs.” John struck a different pose. “First time I saw this, didn’t even have to touch myself. My good friend Marty, she hates it, says it’s not how lesbians fuck. Now I know this, but here’s the thing, I don't care. I do not watch this because I simply believe that lesbians look like they could be a centerfold for playboy. I watch this because I’m horny, and I want to get off.”

Alex laughed, leaning back. “Jesus Christ.”

“Now, since I’ve sucked your dick,” John began as he turned on the TV and put in the VHS. “I feel it only right we both remain comfortable jerking off in front of each other. Yes?”

“You’re the craziest person I’ve ever met,” Alex told him.

John gave Alex a big cat ate the canary smile, then fell back onto the couch, hitting rewind from the spot which he had undoubtedly splooged all over his already crusted sheets. “Alexander, if I’m the craziest person you know, then you’ve had a very boring life.” He grabbed Alex’s chin and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. Alex could’ve sworn he felt John’s tongue swipe his cheek, but didn’t bring it up. John didn’t bring it up either. “Now, shall we watch some porn?”

Alex wiped his cheek, taking another hit off of the joint. “Yeah, alright.”

Alex surprisingly learned a lot about John during their long mutual masturbation session to, what John had correctly stated as, the finest lesbian porn. Firstly, John had a good dick. It wasn’t long, nor thick, but Alex appreciated that. He hated big cocks. Something about being in the army had put him off from them. The bigger the cock, the rougher the sex. Alex wasn’t a huge fan of that.

The next thing he learned was that John was not very enthusiastic when polishing his rifle. He didn’t go at a fast pace, didn’t buck or look too desperate for his own touch, ever. He was slow and lazy. Alex tried not to look too much, but he had to every now and then.

The third and final thing he learned about John was that he did not look at the TV when he came, which happened several times. John looked at Alex as he came, and oh God, it made all the blood in Alex’s body split between his face and his cock. He almost hated it though. Made things worse when it came to his slight hunger for the taste of John’s slim stomach. Alex wondered what the feeling of the hair and the soft skin would feel like under his tongue. He wondered what John’s cock would taste like.

The credits began to roll in the porno, and John shut off the TV, leaning back and breathing a bit heavy. “Wow.”

“Wow.” Alex laughed a bit. “That was good porn.”

John looked over at Alex, his hazel eyes seeming more and more like the scrutiny of the entirety of Manhattan, instead of just one man. “You’re queer.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m real glad you are.”

Alex looked over at John, taking a breath. “Glad you are too.”

John smiled, then stood up. “Pizza’s cold. You still want some?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

John went and got the box, then set it down on the table, opening it. Alex took his slice, folding it in half and shoving it in his mouth. He became painstakingly aware he hadn’t bothered to put his business away when he caught John staring at it. Alex was quick to set the pizza down and pull up his jeans. Sexual frustration or not, Alex didn’t like the idea of someone staring at his soft and thoroughly drained cock.

John snickered and then took a bite of his own pizza. “Don’t worry.”

“Bout what?”

John glanced down at Alex’s crotch again. “It’s good.”

“Oh, God, shut up.”

“Why?” John took another bite of his food. “Even Michaelangelo drew cocks. Just the body.”

“Well, Michaelangelo was queer,” Alex pointed out.

“I have some crazy news for you, Alex.” John took a big bite of his pizza, then began to roll some more joints. “I am also queer. So I can look at cocks when I want to.”

“When do you want to?”

John licked the paper, smiling. “Pretty much all the time. Unless I don’t want to. Usually, I do, sometimes I don't. Even if I do though, I can’t stand gross cocks.” John snorted. “Fuckin’ cheese smell, gross ass dicks.”

“Was mine gross?”

“If it was, I would’ve told you.” John handed Alex the freshly rolled joint. “I like to think I’m a pretty honest person, ‘cept for when I’m not. But if you were gross, I’d tell you.”

Alex didn’t know why, but that was comforting. “Thanks.”

“You know, I live above a bar,” John started.

“Do you own the bar?”

“God no, but I know the owner.” John lit up his own joint, then passed the lighter to Alex. “Got a few apartments in the above area, rents ‘em out to the shit heads of the city like me. As long as I don’t complain about the bar, it’s all good.”

“Sometimes I wanna move out of here.”

“Yeah?”

Alex nodded, taking a long hit. “Yeah. Sometimes all I see is my momma leaning up against the wall, head blown out in the back.” Alex looked at John. “Bullet entry wounds and bullet exit wounds are two different things, yeah?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ gruesome.” John looked around the apartment like he suddenly became aware of Alex’s mother’s ghost. “Hope she ain’t watching us.”

“God, me too.”

“Be real awkward, getting to wherever we go when we die, having to explain to her why I watched lesbian porn with her son.”

Alex tilted his head back, laughing. “She once found a Sears underwear catalog under my bed, then proceeded to beat the shit out of me and lock me in my room for a week.”

“Oh, God.” John laughed along with Alex. “My momma once found a busty Asians porno mag under my bed, she made me eat all the pages.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah, it was nasty, but technically, I ate pussy at age twelve, so…”

Alex snickered. “In my high school, if you knew where to be, you could see into the girl's locker room, right into the showers.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

“Yeah, God. Me and uh, this scrawny little spaz who ended up in this car accident that cut his head clean off. No, uh, we’d sit and we’d watch the girls swim team shower. God, it was in my wet dreams for weeks.”

John looked at Alex. “Wish we’d been allowed to be queer as kids, you know?”

“Yeah.”

John let out a long breath, blowing smoke in Alex’s face. “You do things you regret over in Nam?”

Alex took a long hit from his joint, thinking for a little bit. “Yeah.” He met John’s eyes, thinking. “I think I regret most of the things that happened over there. I know you think most of the guys there signed up to stick it to the yellow-man, but… I mean, they brought us in with a promise of housing, college, three square meals a day and life long friendships.”

“They stick to any of those promises?”

“No.” Alex took a breath of the joint. “‘Cept for maybe the meals, but they weren’t good meals.”

John let out a small laugh, letting his hand fall on Alex’s thigh. “What was your first time with a guy like?”

“I was about twenty-two, I was in the army. It was in the back of a truck. We were on a ride about, just scouting the area, and then the driver stopped and began to kiss me. One thing led to another, and we fucked.”

“Nothing special?”

“Nothing special.” Alex chuckled a bit. “What about you?”

“Ah, I was fourteen, he was twenty-nine.”

“Jesus Christ.”

John snickered. “Yeah. In the town I lived in, there was one queer bar. You could probably catch AIDs if you cut yourself on the broken glass. Anyway, I always snuck in through the bathroom window, and they didn’t card you if you were already inside, so it was a good place to drink and take in the society of queer desperation.” John squeezed Alex’s thigh. “He was blonde, pretty, with a good face and a strong jaw. Took me to a shit hotel and fucked me.”

“What was that like?”

“Bad.” John smiled at Alex. “Could’ve been worse.”

Alex nodded. “We’re the most fucked up generation, aren’t we?”

“We are.” John snuffed out his joint. “I’m gonna start kissing you now, alright?”

Alex didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he just nodded. John did remain true to what he said. He pushed Alex back against the couch and kissed him. Alex put one arm around John’s neck, and let the other arm, the one with the joint, hang down over the floor. His jeans made it a little difficult to hitch his legs over John’s hips, but he managed somehow.

John’s lips tasted like marijuana and pizza. It wasn’t bad, but this was no fairytale kiss. John was almost aggressive, and he wasn’t exactly the best kisser Alex had ever met. Alex didn’t care though, because John was hot.

Eventually, John moved down to Alex’s neck, sucking and biting. Alex was too indulged in the euphoric pleasure to realize John was leaving some dark hickeys in very visible places. Instead of thinking about that, Alex instead brought the joint to his lips and took another hit from it, blowing smoke into the air as John continued to kiss Alex’s neck. He was relentless, nipping and biting, sucking and licking. John’s actions were so pleasant to Alex. The man took his time as if he really cared. Alex didn’t know if John did, but pretending was okay. Honestly, Alex just craved the human connection that he hadn’t gotten in far too long. He just wanted someone to give him love.

When John got up from the couch, leaving Alex half-hard and in a dazed state, he looked as though nothing had happened. He put on his jacket and then lit up a cigarette, looking at Alex. “I gotta place I need to be right now.”

Alex took a breath, still trying to recover from the intense makeout session. “What?”

“I’ll call you or something, visit. When do you work?”

“Sundays through Fridays, eleven to seven,” Alex mumbled.

“Alright.” John took a long hit from his cigarette, then leaned down and kissed Alex’s forehead. “See you around?”

“You’re just gonna go?”

John nodded. “Sorry, darling, I got places to be.”

“Like where?” Alex challenged, pushing himself up on his elbows.

John kissed Alex again, hoping to shut him up. “Don’t be annoying. I’ll see you soon.”

“You promise?”

“What the fuck do you wanna do? Make a fucking friendship bracelet? I’m not gonna fuckin’ promise, I ain’t in fucking third grade. You can just fucking trust me.”

Alex could tell he was getting on John’s nerves. “Alright.” He squeezed John’s hand. “I’ll see you around, John.”

John softened a bit, smiling and kissing the top of Alex’s head. “Yeah, baby, I’ll see you around.”

Alex flopped back down on the couch after John left, sighing. “Alright.”

He looked down at his semi-erection, and then around at his apartment. His couch had jizz staining it. Alex didn’t care that much though. Instead, he grabbed another piece of pizza and began to fill a bath.

The rest of his night was spent eating cold pizza and sitting in a lukewarm bath full of water and his own jizz, but he was okay with that.


	5. Viscious

John began showing up more and more at Alex’s place during random points. Sometimes, Alex would be pulling himself from his bed at four am to let John in. John wouldn’t ask for more than an allowance to crash on Alex’s couch, and Alex would easily oblige and go back to sleep. Mornings with John were filled with cigarette smoke and pretty good omelets. Alex felt like John was a drug. The more he hung out with the man, the less he cared about all the little routines he had. No more microwave dinners. Even if John wasn’t there, Alex found himself seeking out new restaurants, or at least just taking home some food from where he worked. No more late nights listening to infomercials try and convince him to consume. In fact, he hadn’t really been watching TV at all.

Despite John’s greasy and careless outlook, he read a lot of books, and often enough, when he would arrive at Alex’s, he would bring a VHS of porn, as well as a few novels that ‘you gotta read, Alex.’ Currently, Alex was reading William S Burroughs, which he really liked. The man had a good way of writing. He was one of those post-WWII writers that faked a mental illness so he wouldn’t have to go fight. Alex almost wished he had done that.

It was about eleven now. Alex was lounging on his couch, reading Naked Lunch. A frantic knocking startled him out of his daze.

“Alex, come on, gotta open the door.”

Alex was quick to open the door and John fell almost on top of him. He didn’t stop to apologize though, just turned around, closed the door, and locked it. He looked around, then looked to Alex, a frantic look in his eyes. John looked high as shit. Sometimes he came over like this, pupils pinpoint, mouth salivating, words slurred. John was high this time. Alex figured he had a night of listening to John’s long speeches that he couldn’t understand until sleep got to him. But something about John’s eyes had Alex worried.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“I need bleach,” John started, going to the kitchen.

“John, what’s going on?” Alex asked, following John into the kitchen.

“I’m…” John’s hands were shaking. “I’m overdosing. I think I’m going to die. I need to throw up.” He found a bottle of bleach and unscrewed the lid. “There we go.”

“Whoa!” Alex quickly snatched the bottle of bleach from John’s hands. “Hold on, John, this is not the way to do it.” He dragged John into the bathroom, and then pulled out the first aid kit. “And also, if your stupid plan had actually worked, you would’ve thrown up on my kitchen floor. What did you take?”

“Lotta lotta pills, and some liquor.”

Alex smacked John’s cheek lightly to keep him awake. “Okay, come on.” He pulled out some Ipecac syrup and measured it out into a teaspoon and forced it into John’s mouth. “Few more.” He did this a couple of times, listening to John gag as the disgusting liquid was forced down his throat. “There we go, it should work soon.”

“You know,” John started, smiling. “You’re gonna have to keep me awake.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex muttered, not really paying attention to John as he helped the man strip off his coat.

“Yeah.” John let out a low laugh, watching Alex stand up so to tie John’s hair back. “All night.”

Alex looked down at John, then shook his head. “You really shouldn’t overdose.”

“Didn’t mean to.”

“No?”

John shook his head. “Not at all. Just got a little carried away.” John took a deep breath through his nose. “You don’t do much else besides beer and tea, huh?”

“No, I don’t.” Alex sat down on the edge of the tub, next to John, and then opened up the toilet seat so John could hurl in it. “I guess you do.”

“Maybe.” John smiled, leaning in and kissing Alex’s cheek. “So, how’re you gonna keep me up?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “How do you want me to keep you up?”

John gagged a bit, leaning over the toilet for a second, before looking back at Alex. “I have condoms in my jacket pocket.”

Alex smiled. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

John nodded, then leaned down and vomited. Alex rubbed his back as John threw up. And Jesus Christ, John threw up so much. Alex couldn’t be sure, but God, it looked like he had eaten a whole pizza, and then drank a lot more alcohol. Somewhere in there were dissolved pills, but Alex didn’t exactly rummage through John’s vomit before flushing the toilet.

“Come on, John.” Alex hauled the man up and into the living room. “There we go, sit down, sit down.” Alex managed to get John sitting almost upright on his couch. “Okay, do you want some food?”

“Alex, stop fucking with me,” John chuckled. “Just, sit on my cock.”

Alex gave John a look, and then went into his kitchen. He made some coffee, handing a mug to John, and then setting his own on the coffee table. Most of Alex’s furniture was not his mother’s. After he got back from the war, something about the grandma styled furniture that his mother had so carelessly picked out made him have breakdowns, so he got rid of it all. For about a month, his apartment had nothing in it but his bed and the TV, and then the Ikea furniture began to arrive. A couch, loveseat, armchair set arrived. Light pine wood, with dark blue fabric, a coffee table to match the theme. A kitchen table with stools, a bed stand with a real headboard, lamps, shelves. Alex lived in an Ikea suburbia.

Alex didn’t know this, but John’s apartment was probably the exact opposite. There were holes in the drywall, the furniture was acquired from the Salvation Army thrift shops, it was messy, dishes always piled high in the sink. The windows were never opened, and the whole place reeked of drug cooking and cigarette smoke. John’s bathroom faucet didn’t work, so he brushed his teeth in the kitchen. His shower was either very hot, or very cold, so as you showered, you had to consistently switch it so your body wouldn’t die of heatstroke or hypothermia. It was ugly, but John liked it.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Alex asked, looking at his small collection of VHS tapes on the shelves below his TV. “I have The Godfather, Clockwork Orange, Jaws, The Exorcist, and Colossus: The Forbidden Object. Take your pick.”

“Oh, so you’re a horror movie freak.” John pushed himself up a bit. “Why’s that?”

“Firstly, Godfather is not a horror movie-”

“The fuck you talkin’ about? There’s a horse head in it!” John gasped.

“Pussy.”

John rolled his eyes.

“And secondly, I like horror movies. Because even when the people are bad, it’s not real. They aren’t really bad. The actors are all probably friends. No one actually gets hurt.”

“Sounds like you have some unresolved trauma.”

“Fuck off.” Alex pulled Jaws off the shelf. “Come on, shark movie?”

“Sharks are actually very docile creatures, they’re not evil, not like the way Hollywood presents them,” John pointed out.

Alex paused. “Okay, but it’s a good movie.”

“Let’s watch The Exorcist,” John decided.

Alex nodded, grabbing the VHS and putting it in the TV, then going back to sit down with John. “Don’t do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Overdose.” Alex gave John a serious look. “You scared me.”

“Awh, Alex.” John leaned in and planted a big wet kiss on Alex’s cheek. “I’ve overdosed a million times, baby. I ain’t going nowhere any time soon.”

Alex wiped his cheek off, feigning disgust, but let John’s arm slip around his shoulders and pull him closer as the movie started. Alex sipped his coffee, letting John slowly come onto him. Eventually, he put his cup down, because he knew if John was about to push him down anymore he was going to spill.

“You’re not smooth,” Alex stated, looking up at John.

“So I should just kiss you then, huh?”

Alex shrugged a bit, looking back at the TV. “If you want. I’m not putting effort into the sex though, I like this movie.”

John stood up and paused the movie, then pushed Alex down on the couch, straddling him. “There we go.”

“You’re an asshole,” Alex stated.

“That’s not nice.”

Alex, as gently as possible, punched John in the dick. Despite the playful, well-meaning manner the punch was delivered in, it still made John let out a breath in pain. Alex laughed a bit, tilting his head back. “Shit, sorry.”

“You’re a cunt,” John accused, leaning down and beginning to kiss Alex’s throat.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” John gripped Alex’s thigh, letting out a low breath. “God, look at you.”

Alex smiled, tilting his head back a bit. He let out a gasp when stuck his hand down the boxer shorts Alex had been wearing, beginning to touch his cock. Alex found himself arching his hips upward into John’s hand. He began to realize that the two of them had never really had sex before. Sure, blowjobs, handjobs, and the occasional fingering, courtesy of John, was common when John came over. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been sexual, but sex was something John never did. Alex had to admit, he was a bit excited.

John sat up a bit and tugged off his wife-beater, then was quick to tug down Alex’s boxers. He licked his middle finger and began to Alex. Alex moaned, clenching his jaw and gasping for air. John chuckled a bit, nipping Alex’s neck.

“You know,” Alex started, breathlessly. “When I showed up to work with all those hickeys on my neck, my coworker, Kim, she made fun of me for the entire shift.”

“Mm, good.” John thrust his fingers hard into Alex, at the same time, biting his neck.

Alex threw his head back, letting out a cry. “Ah! God, fuck!”

John snickered, pulling his fingers out of Alex and sitting up. Alex took it into his own hands to pull off his shirt, tossing it to the floor and then laying back. While he wasn’t vain, Alex knew he had a good body. It was stout, but the army had given him a ruggedly cut edge that looked just right on him.

John stared at Alex for a moment, and then his smile faded. He swallowed hard, then stood up and grabbed his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Alex pushed himself up. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I just…” John shook his head. “Let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

Alex pulled up his boxers, which had remained at his ankles, and then grabbed his shirt. “Before you play it, can I ask you something?”

John nodded, sitting back on the couch and sipping his coffee. “Yeah, sure, shoot.”

“Logically, we should’ve had sex by now.”

“Logically,” John mocked.

Alex almost smiled. “But, we haven’t, and you just, you always change your mind. I’m not trying to be a dick, but why?”

John took a breath, thinking. “Remember when I told you how my mother died?”

Alex nodded.

“Well, I don’t really tell people that. I don’t like to. Especially not in the detail that I used to explain it to you. But I told you, do you wanna know why?”

Alex nodded.

“Because it’s so much easier to tell people the worst parts of me when I’m not looking them in the eye.” John let out a dry chuckle, then lit up a cigarette. “Maybe I’ll call you from a payphone one night, tell you the story, hm?”

Alex tilted his head a bit but nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

John stood up and played the movie, then sat back down next to Alex. Alex grabbed a blanket and pulled it over the both of them, leaning into John a bit and smiling. John put his arm around Alex and the two watched the movie. Alex had seen it so many times that he could predict the jump scares at this point, and John was too out of it to actually understand what was going on, so the movie was enjoyed in relative relaxation.

John ended up falling asleep on Alex’s shoulder. When the movie was over, Alex stood up and helped John lay down on the couch, then put a blanket over the man. He smiled lightly, kissing John’s forehead and then going to his bedroom, jerking off, and falling asleep in his own jizz.

The next morning, Alex walked out in the living room to find no trace of John. Even the blanket was folded. On the coffee table was a note, written in bad handwriting. Alex picked it up, sitting down on his couch and reading it.

‘Alex, I took five dollars from your wallet for subway fare and breakfast. Thanks for making me throw up last night. I’ll see you when I get horny, hungry, or lonely, which judging by how I’m feeling now, shouldn’t be too long. Bye.’

Alex shook his head, chuckling a bit, then went into the kitchen. Sure enough, five dollars was missing from Alex’s wallet. He didn’t know what he expected, but the idea of John taking that money didn’t really bother him.

He heated up a TV dinner for breakfast and sat down at his kitchen table. Things were changing in his life, and he knew that was because of John, but Alex didn’t care all that much. The idea of things changing, it felt good. Alex had lived his life in routine for so long, that the disruption had an almost calming effect.

Alex went over to the radio and turned it on. He had never really sought out music before, the only reason he had the radio was for emergency announcements, but something about the apartment felt too quiet. So, he found a summer station that was playing some pop-rock music, and then sat back down. It was nice.

He didn’t do much else before he went to work, but he found himself tapping his foot along to the beat, wondering if this is the type of music John listened to. He knew it probably wasn’t it, but he liked it regardless.


	6. Wilderness

Alex was walking out of the building he worked in when he noticed that Cheshire cat smile. There’s a scene, in Alice in Wonderland, when the cat first appears, but all you can see is his smile. That’s what this was like. All you could see was John’s smile for a moment. It wasn’t like his teeth were white enough to glow, there was just something so completely wicked about that smile, that you had to notice it.

“Love me tender,” John began to sing once he was sure he had caught Alex’s attention. “Love me sweet. Never let me go. You have made my life complete, and I love you so.”

Alex chuckled. “What are you doing here, John?”

“Shh,” John took Alex’s hand, beginning to sway with him. “Love me tender, love me true. All my dreams fulfilled. Darling, I love you, and I always will.” He dipped Alex a little bit. “Love me tender, love me long. Take me to your heart, for it’s there that I belong, and we’ll never part.”

John had a very nice voice. Despite his rough New York accent and his sharp and wicked ways of talking, his voice was surprisingly smooth, like a jazz singer. If John gained some weight, got a haircut, and showered, he could probably sing at one of those clubs, the kind you see in the noir detective films. Usually, though, the singer was a woman. This thought led Alex to imagine John up in a strapless red dress, shining in the light. He didn’t look half bad.

“Elvis, huh?” Alex chided as John continued to sway with him.

“My momma loved Elvis,” John replied. “Always played it around the house. Had every Elvis record you could buy.”

“And what? Are you a fan of the king?” Alex cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head up to John’s.

“Nah, not my type.”

“What is your type?”

John gave Alex a look, and for a second, Alex thought John was gonna pin him against the wall and fuck him. The look passed though, and John just smiled, then began to pull Alex down the street. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Shut up.” John gave Alex a playful smile. “You ask too many questions and life just becomes an answer. Some things aren’t an answer, Alex.”

“Yeah?” Alex shoved his hands in his pockets. It had been a cool day, so Alex was just wearing his black jeans, white tee-shirt, and a blue denim jacket. John wore the same thing he always did; loose, black ripped jeans, old combat boots, army green trench coat, and a white beater that was too big on him. John, in a strangely Oedipus-like manner, reminded Alex of his mother, but if his mother was a man, and worse. John was skinny like her, with yellow teeth and dark eyes, that haunted look. It sometimes creeped Alex out.

“Yeah.” John bumped Alex, before turning and pulling them into a subway station. “We’re headed to a bar. It’s a little up. How was work?”

For a second, Alex wanted to comment on how domestic the question in itself was. He decided against it though as both he and John hopped the turnstile. “Uh, alright. It’s just dishwashing, there’s not much to comment on.”

“Are you good at dishwashing?”

Alex nodded.

“Then there’s always something to comment on then.” John pulled Alex onto the A train and then looked at him. “Come on, nothing interesting happened?”

“Well, my coworker, Kim, she’s trying to learn English. She immigrated here from China or something, one of those Asian countries, I can’t remember, and she’s learning English. Anyway, we are now able to have simple conversations in English together. I just noticed today how good she had gotten.”

“That’s sweet.” John took a breath, looking around the subway. “I wanna get fucked up tonight.”

“We’re drinking heavy, I guess?”

John shook his head. “I’ll do it when I get back to my place. Some of the people we gon’ be hanging out with, they’re real good. Haven’t seen ‘em in a bit.” John smiled. “You know though, the urge to get skunked and watch porn for a few hours?”

Alex smiled, nodding. “Yeah, sometimes. Who of your friends am I meeting tonight?”

“I dunno, whoever shows up. When am I gonna meet some of your friends?”

Alex was quiet.

“You’re fucking with me.” John tilted his head back, laughing. “You don’t got any friends? None? Nada?”

“I mean, I guess my coworkers, but I don’t hang out with them after work.”

John threw his arm around Alex’s neck, pulling him a bit closer. “Oh, man, you are one weird fucking dude. You’ll like my friends though. Maybe they’ll like you.” John snickered. “And man, you really look like you need to go drinking with a group. I’ll try and hook you up with one of them.”

“Alright, so we’re not like, exclusive?” Alex started.

John gave Alex an uncomfortable look. “Did something about me give you that impression?”

Alex shrugged. “Probably the blowjobs.”

John chuckled. “No, we’re not. I’m not… I don’t do exclusiveness. Is that okay?”

Alex nodded. “I’ve never really been into that kind of stuff. Don’t think I’m the right person for it, you know?”

“I know.” John found Alex’s hand and took it, lacing their fingers together. “But I’ll still blow you.”

“I know.”

John got Alex to the bar and Alex instantly realized what a dive it was. It’s not like he expected John to take him to a cocktail bar, but he really didn’t expect this. It was dirty, broken glass crunching under their shoes. People were drunk, the music was loud, and Alex was sure there were about fifty health code violations going on. John didn’t care though, and he pulled Alex to the back, where a table was crowded with people. Three women, one man.

The first woman looked Asian, with a small chest, and long hair. She wore a tee-shirt that was cut to show the hem of her bra, ripped in several places, paired with a pair of bootcut checkered pants. The second woman had long wavy brown hair, with big brown eyes. The second one wore a red bootcut jumpsuit, unzipped so her ample chest almost spilled out. She was on the arm of a woman in a leather jacket, short afro hair and lip ring making Alex instantly think of her as queer. Alex couldn’t get a good look at the guy since he was sitting with his back towards the door.

“Aye yo!” John smiled, tugging Alex over to the table. “Hello, ladies.”

The one man at the table, a tall guy with a mixed skin tone and long, dreaded hair tied back, flipped John off. “Cock sucker.”

John mimed gagging on a dick, and then shoved the guy down, pulling Alex into the booth as well. “I would like to introduce you all to perhaps the finest dishwasher in Chinatown, Alexander Hamilton. Don’t call him by his last name though, because I fucking hate it.”

“You’re such a dick, John,” the Asian girl snorted, a fry in her hand. “I’m Eliza.”

Alex liked the way she looked. “It’s nice to meet you, Eliza.”

“Ooh, he kinda polite,” the girl in the red jumpsuit laughed, sipping the blue margarita in her hand sloppily. “I’m Maria, and this stud right here is my wife, Marty.”

“Oh, you two are married?” Alex asked.

Marty rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her beer. “Not legally, if that’s what you’re wondering. But fuck the law, right?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, fuck the law.”

“And I,” began the guy sitting next to John, “Am Lafayette, John’s business partner. How did you meet John?”

“I wanted to blow him,” John stated crudely. “So I did, and then we decided we were friends. Well, I decided, and then I forced it onto him.”

Alex laughed.

“Well, Alex, I’m sorry you had to get his disgusting mouth around your cock,” Eliza started. “But if you want, I’d do a whole lot more for twenty bucks.”

“Hey, advertise during business hours,” Laf complained. “We want Eliza, not Eliza of the Night.”

Eliza just smiled and shrugged, sipping her martini.

“So, John, am I ever gonna get that two hundred you owe me?” Lafayette asked, putting one of his feet up on the booth and leaning back.

“Of course… not,” John snickered.

“Dick,” Lafayette muttered.

“Look, dude,” Marty started. “It’s your own fucking fault for ever thinking John was capable of repaying a loan. I mean, come on, dude’s a black hole.”

“First time he spent the night, he took five dollars from me,” Alex stated.

John planted a wet kiss on Alex’s cheek. “One day, baby, I’m gonna take five dollars from you, and you’re gonna wonder why I only took five dollars.”

Alex rolled his eyes, nudging John a bit. “Alright, freak.”

They stayed at that little bar for about an hour, then Eliza used her tits to get a bottle of Jack off the shelf so they could move to the next one without gaining any sobriety. Lafayette, on the train, began a chorus of Sandman, and he failed to notice that it was only the group singing along. Of course, the New Yorkers that were on the train didn’t actually care what was going on. They never had. It was still New York.

The bar-hopping had nothing too mentionable happen, besides, of course, Alex and Eliza making out for the majority of the last two bar hops.

When the group dispersed, it was Alex, Eliza, and John, walking down the street and singing. John had his arms around both Alex and Eliza, relying heavily on them to hold him up. Eliza wasn’t, by any means, dainty, and Alex never really lost his military muscle, so it was easy to keep the stick of a man up.

“Johnny, where do you want us to drop you, hm? Your place?” Eliza asked, smiling up at him.

“Oh, man, I dunno.” John planted a kiss on the side of her head. “I think my place. It’s the closest. Will that be alright?” He stumbled a bit, but Alex caught him.

“Yeah, that’ll be fine,” Eliza assured John. “Come on, let’s catch a subway.”

Alex had never been to John’s place, and he didn’t know what to expect, but when they got there, he wasn’t surprised. Messy, gross, poorly decorated, with clothes and old plates strewn across it. Eliza seemed unphased though, so Alex assumed she had been here before. Alex tried to look past the layer of grime and then decided it could actually look nice if John put in any effort.

“Alright.” John stopped in his bedroom doorway. The bedroom was just as gross as the rest of the apartment, but it did match John’s personality. “Thank you both.”

Eliza pinched his cheek. “You don’t die tonight, alright? Sleep on your side.”

John leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Mm, alright. You don’t get… fuckin’ AIDs or some shit. And don’t overcharge Alex.”

Eliza shrugged a bit.

“Don’t!” John complained. “I’ll see you soon?”

Eliza poked his nose. “Depends on how much money you got.”

John smiled, then turned to Alex. What was expected was some sarcastic banter and witty comebacks, until John either threw up and passed out. Instead, John grabbed Alex and began a passionate makeout session, rubbing Alex’s groin and moaning. Alex could barely keep up with John’s lips, his tongue, his hands. It was shocking, so shocking, that when John pulled away, Alex could only stand there for a minute, wiping the spit from his mouth.

“Alright, bye.” John turned and shut the door to his room, leaving Eliza and Alex standing in his hallway. Eliza took a still shocked Alex’s hand and led him into the kitchen, she let go, and spent a few minutes, looking around, until she found some weed. It was a baggie full of it, in the freezer. She took half, put it in another bag, and then shoved it down her pants.

Alex gave her a weird look for that.

“What?” She tugged on the crotch of her pants. “It’s not like it’s up there.”

Alex didn’t know what to say to that, so he nodded and walked with her out of the apartment. “So, my place or yours?”

She smiled. “Yours. I live with my sisters. That’d be awkward.”

Alex paused awkwardly as they left the apartment building. “So, am I uh… paying you for this?”

Eliza nodded. “You are.”

“Alright, fair enough.”

She grabbed ahold of Alex’s arm, leaning against him and placing her head on his shoulder. “I love New York at night. I just think it’s gorgeous, don’t you?”

“Guess I never noticed.”

She let out an annoyed sigh. “John said you were a military dude.”

Alex shrugged. “I guess.”

“Don’t.” Eliza looked at Alex. “We all got shit we ain’t proud of. John criticizing you for what you did is like the pot calling the kettle black. You gotta own that shit. Own what you’re ashamed of, or we ain’t ever going nowhere. Own it and use it against the people who used it against you.”

“What is this, sex? Or a therapy session?” Alex joked.

Eliza chuckled. “I dunno, I’m sick of men being fucking crybabies all the time. We all got shit going on. I can own my shit, so you should own yours.”

“You never been to war,” Alex pointed out.

“Don’t tell me that. We all got wars Alex, and just because they didn’t suit me up in camo and hand me a gun, it don’t mean I wasn’t fighting my own battles.” Eliza squeezed Alex’s arm. “So, where do you live?”

“Right outside of Chinatown. Easy to commute and shit. I work in a restaurant as a dishwasher.”

“I was wondering why your hands are so dry.” Eliza chuckled. “You need some cocoa butter, baby. I’m not letting you get all in my business with hands like that.”

On the walk back to Alex’s apartment, Alex got a pretty good idea of the person Eliza was. Strong, without taking anybody’s shit. Big feminist, supporter of lesbian and female movements. He liked that about her, and he didn’t know why. He’d come to realize later, that it was because he had seen his mother degraded and put below her male acquaintances at work so often, and it always pissed him off. For now, though, Alex just kid himself into thinking he actually gave a shit about women’s suffrage.

Eliza had a body that knocked the wind out of Alex, both emotionally and physically. Eliza didn’t seem to want to let him take control, because she kept his wrists tightly in her hands, and rode him. She was intense, and God, Alex could barely control himself. Four minutes in, he came and lost both seamen and his dignity as he filled up the condom, gasping and throwing his head back into the pillow. John blew him like he wanted to watch Alex squirm for as long as possible. Eliza fucked him like she wanted to break him and his ego.

She smiled, getting off of him and tying her hair up. “You’re cute you know. John was right.”

“About what?” Alex muttered, pushing himself up on his elbows and staring down at the condom.

“He told me you were cute.” Eliza found her bra among the room and began to put it on. “I think he likes you, you know.”

“Like, likes me likes me?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid. Of course not.” Eliza slipped on her underwear. “But he likes you, and that’s a lot with John.” She began to slip on her pants. “John will never be in a real relationship. He was, once, but… didn’t work out. So he doesn’t do it anymore. But he likes you, and that’s good enough, or it should be.”

“It is.”

Eliza buttoned her pants, and then pulled on her shirt. “Forty. You owe me forty.”

Alex got up, going to his payday jar and pulling out two twenties. “Here you go.”

Eliza smiled. “Alright, well, maybe I’ll see you around, huh?”

“That’d be nice, Eliza.” Alex grabbed an old receipt and wrote the number to his landline on it. “Just, call me whenever you need to make some fast cash, huh? I like you.”

“Alright, and you should seriously invest in lotion. Don’t know how John survives handjobs from you. You’re not touching my junk until the sandpaper situation has been fixed.”

Alex smiled as he got up and walked her to the door, finding a robe to slip on. “Alright, I will. I’ll see you whenever, yeah?”

Eliza ruffled Alex’s hair. “Grow your hair out. You’ll look nicer.”

“I’m trying,” Alex chuckled. And he was. Since he met John, he had gone from an army buzz cut to shaggy dark hair growing a couple inches off of his scalp. “See you later.”

“Adios, Hamilton.”

Alex overslept a bit the next day and had to rush his morning routine. He got to work barely on time and was just about to begin his shift when his boss called him into his office. His boss was a kind old man, named Cai, who had been running this place since the sixties. He had always been really nice to Alex too, which was rare in the list of bosses Alex had worked for in his life.

“Hey, sir,” Alex started. “What’s up?”

“Alex.” Cai stared at him with a hard face. “I have been running this business for almost twenty year. I run it on my belief, for my parents, who had no good luck in this country. I would never do anything to hurt their legacy.”

Alex nodded, not really understanding where this was going.

“I’m sorry, but I have to let you go.”

The words hit Alex like a bag of bricks. “May I ask why?”

“I see you with boyfriend, outside my shop.” Cai shook his head. “I sorry, Alex. I am. But I can not let you work here.”

Alex nodded. “Oh. Okay.”

“I will mail you last paycheck.”

“Okay.” Alex stood up. “I should go.”

Cai nodded.

Alex didn’t say goodbye to anyone, not even Kim, just snuck out the back and went home. He heated up a TV dinner, sat down, and then watched infomercials for the rest of the day. Buy, sell, buy, sell, make cash quick, stocks and bonds. Alex’s mind wasn’t anywhere near that. It was mostly wondering where to find another job, and how he was gonna make rent this month.

Alex took a deep breath, looking around his apartment. It was eight, he had wasted the day on the couch. He wasn’t tired, but he went to bed anyway, hoping this was just some fucked up dream.


	7. Shake Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for some talk of suicide

Alex spent the next day doing nothing. He laid in bed for the first couple of hours, staring at the ceiling, then got up and proceeded to do the same thing on the couch. He turned on the TV but didn’t watch it. He kept waiting for a call from his boss, telling him that he could come back. Alex didn’t know how he was going to pay rent. He supposed he could be looking for another job, but he was still in that post job depression. His life was officially meaningless. He was no longer the best dishwasher in Chinatown, he was just a man with an average cock and a lot of frozen dinners in his freezer.

Alex played Monopoly against himself for about three hours. When he got back from the war, he had this dream of still keeping in touch with his army friends, having them come over and drink beers and play games or watch TV or whatever. Two of them died, one of them got married and moved to California, and the last one hates his guts.

He ended up losing at Monopoly. He also won, but the loss was what got to him. He felt sick with depression. He hadn’t been this sad in a long time. When his mother died, for a while, people thought Alex might’ve done something to her, because he didn’t cry in front of the cops. Alex didn’t even cry when he was alone. His mother had been threatening to kill herself for the past year. She would hold a pistol up to her throat when Alex would complain, or just be a kid. She’d ask him why he sucked all the joy from her. Alex knew she had trauma, a reason for why she was the way she was. That didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to hate her every now and then.

Alex called John’s house, but no one picked up. He didn’t have Eliza’s number, so he couldn’t call her. And those were Alex’s only friends. He had no one else in this world who would bat an eye if he died. Maybe they wouldn’t even care.

The gun Alex’s mother used to kill herself never left the apartment. The process of getting it out of the safe where it was didn’t stick in Alex’s mind, but he sat up against the wall his mother sat up against, right where she was and stared at it. He wanted to kid himself into thinking that he could see teeth marks from his mother’s dentures.

Since the army was the army, Alex knew his way around a gun. Safety off, three bullets left. Alex wondered if it was in the beginning, fully loaded. Alex wondered if his mother had shot something else before herself. She didn’t, he knew that, but he wondered. He tried to picture his mother with a gun, shooting a target, pretending it was a Nazi soldier. Alex knew that was the only way he got through the army. The man he shot wasn’t a fresh-faced Vietnamese soldier who couldn’t have been older than eighteen, no, this was the Nazi soldier who raped his mother. That’s how it worked.

The barrel of the gun was pressed to Alex’s lips. He kissed it. His mother wouldn’t let him kiss her on the cheek, the head, the head, wherever sons kiss their mothers. She wouldn’t even touch Alex. He was pretty sure she hated him for being born a boy. His mother hated men, hated them. She hated Alex’s father, and Alex was sure she would’ve hated him entirely had he not come from her. She used to laugh and cry and say things like ‘what a strange sense of humor God has, giving me a boy.’ Alex sometimes wondered if that gun was originally for him.

Alex put the barrel in his mouth and moved it around. He tasted the cold and bitter metal on his tongue. He wondered what his mother was thinking about when she was in this position. He wondered if she thought about him. She probably thought about her sister. Alex never met his aunt, but he knew his mother loved her more than anything. He knew when his aunt died, a part of his mother died with her.

He felt terrible for this, but he almost wished his mother had died in those camps. It was like watching a horse with a broken leg trying to get up out of its own feces, except his mother didn’t want to get up. She was the horse that laid there, waiting for you to shoot it. She was dead in every way except physical. Alex wished he had shot her himself, just so he could’ve done something to benefit the woman at least once.

Alex cocked the gun and began to wonder what death felt like. He hoped it was quick, he hoped when he arrived wherever he would go, he would see his mother. And he hoped she was happy. He hoped all the scars that the holocaust had left on her were washed away. He hoped she would take him into her arms and kiss his head, and tell him she loved him. She never did that when she was alive though, so Alex didn’t have much reason to believe she’d do such a thing when dead.

He had no will, but he hoped the coroner would know enough to bury him next to his mother.

The phone began to ring just as Alex placed his finger on the trigger. Alex sighed, setting the gun on the floor and going to the phone. He swallowed the bitter spit in his mouth and picked it up. “Hamilton residence, Alex speaking.”

“ _Alex_ ,” John’s slurred voice came through, laughing. “I’m in _big_ trouble!”

Alex wasn’t really in the mood for this. “What’s going on?”

“I need someone to take me to the hospital. Think my nose is broken, and I am bleeding a lot.”

This worried Alex. “Where are you?”

“You know that bar below my apartment building? I’m there, in the back booth. You gotta… you gotta come get me. I’m covered in blood, and the manager is comin’ over to kick me out for bleeding on his stuff.” John’s voice became muffled, and the phone hung up.

Alex sighed, looking at the gun on his floor, then slipped on his shoes and left.

It didn’t take long to get to where John was. Luckily, the man was pretty easy to find, since he was lying flat on his back in the middle of the sidewalk. His earlier assessment had been correct, his nose looked broken, and he was covered in blood.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Alex muttered.

“Ha! Alex! Baby, you came!” John tried to get up but gave up.

Alex stopped a passerby. “Do you know where the closest ER is?”

The passerby, a man with a hat much too big, told Alex it was about three blocks down, and two blocks east. So, for about five blocks, John relied entirely on Alex to hold him up. Alex got blood on himself and listened to John’s story about the bar fight he had gotten into. Alex almost wished he hadn’t picked up the phone and had just shot himself. Something about suicidal urges that suck the empathy from you.

Alex got John to the ER and tried to leave, but John was adamant on Alex staying. He was drunk and probably high. Since it was a weeknight, and not many people were getting into stupid barfights, they got in pretty quickly.

“He needs an IV,” the doctor decided after putting John’s nose back into place. “He hasn’t lost enough blood to get a transfusion, but an IV would help, and probably sober him up. Did you see the fight?”

Alex shook his head. “No. I was in my apartment with a gun between my teeth.”

The doctor chuckled like it was a joke. “You probably need to hit the bottle more than he does.”

When the doctor left, Alex sat down and looked at John, who was still drowsy and in pain. The doctor had put a bit of morphine into John’s IV, but John told him that he needed more. Alex figured John probably did pills.

“You had a gun between your teeth?” John muttered, looking at Alex.

Alex nodded.

“Hey, why were you doing that?” John asked in his whiney drunk voice.

“Because I wanted to kill myself.”

Alex guessed John expected some half-assed excuse, and that he would have to pry the answer from Alex a little more, and this would lead to an open dialogue. He didn’t expect Alex to just say it, so he shut up about it. That gave Alex the time to tilt his head back and close his eyes. They stayed like this for five minutes, just listening to the beeping from other rooms.

“You tried to kill yourself?”

“No, I just wanted to.” Alex cracked open an eye. “Trying insinuates that I actually did something.”

“You put a gun between your teeth,” John pointed out.

“Might as well have been smoking a cigarette.” Alex wished he had that gun with him. He wished he could go out back and shoot himself there.

Sometimes Alex got depressive episodes. They’d happened ever since he had gotten back from the army. He’d overdosed on purpose several times, tried to slit his wrists. Also got a paramedic telling him to be more careful before writing a prescription for something or another that wouldn’t help.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

“Fuck you.” Alex stood up. “I don’t even want to be here, John. I’d rather be at home painting my walls with my fucking brain matter but you had to be a fucking idiot and get into some fucking bar fight and now I gotta stick with your ass until you get home.”

John swallowed. “Sit back down, and don’t you ever talk to me like that.”

“Suck my cock,” Alex muttered, sitting down.

“God, the fuck is wrong with you?” John muttered. “You ain’t ever been happy sunshine, yeah, but you’re being a real dick tonight. You ain’t gotten fucked in a while?”

“No, ‘cause you’re a fucking coward or some shit. What’s the issue, John? Can’t fuckin’ stand the idea of sticking your cock in-”

“You shut your fucking mouth.” John sat up abruptly. “Shut it before I beat your ass to a point where you don’t need a gun to spill your brains out over the floor. How’s that sound, Alex, huh?” John laid back again. “Fuckin’ cunt.”

“Fuck you.”

John didn’t respond, just flipped Alex off and stared at the ceiling.

The IV bag drained into John’s system and John was discharged. Alex walked him out, and the two stopped in front of the hospital. John pulled out a cigarette, and then handed one to Alex. They leaned up against the hospital wall, smoking together.

“I got fired,” Alex stated.

John looked over.

“Saw you and me making out after my shift, fired me.”

John let out a breath. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna come back to my place? We can get high and watch porn.” John looked at Alex, a small smile on his lips.

“You gonna make me talk about the gun?”

John shrugged. “Not unless you bring it up.”

“Okay, then sure, let’s go.”

The walk back to John’s place was shorter and easier than the walk to the hospital. John was now fully capable of standing on his own, so Alex wasn’t his main mode of transportation. John’s apartment was just as messy, but he held true to his promise to Alex. No gun talk, no long meaningful conversation, just VHS porn, and weed.

Masturbating while you're high is different from just regular masturbation. First of all, you don’t go as fast, but you don’t need to. Alex got high enough to only really run his fingers along his erect cock. He came without much stimulation, and then closed his eyes and listened to the porn. John had a higher tolerance, so he could put himself to use, but it still didn’t take much to finish.

They both pulled up their pants and watched the porn with no intent to touch themselves. Alex wished he was a pornstar, and he didn’t know why.

“I don’t think anyone would’ve missed me if I shot myself tonight,” Alex stated.

“You don’t know that,” John replied, turning down the porn.

“I do.” Alex tilted his head back and began to laugh. “My own mother wouldn’t have cared if I died. Funny thing is though, she was the only person I was thinking of when I had that gun in my mouth.” Alex shook his head. “This whole thing a fucking joke.”

John was very uncomfortable because he didn’t know how to handle the situation. “I had a brother who killed himself.”

“Yeah?”

“He thought no one would care.” John smiled. “My sister tried heroin for the first time the night after he died.”

“This the one you went hunting with?”

“Yeah.”

Alex was quiet, then he started to cry. “I’m so sick of being alone.”

John put his arm around Alex and pulled him closer. Alex sobbed like someone he cared deeply about had just died. John didn’t say anything, but he kept his arm around Alex. When Alex stopped crying, John reached forward and turned off the porn.

“You wanna order a pizza?”

Alex nodded, so John got to work on that.

It came, and they sat in silence, eating it. John almost said something a couple of times, but Alex gave him a look and he shut up. When the pizza was done, John threw the box away and sat back down with Alex, closing his eyes.

“Sorry you’re going through all this bullshit,” he muttered.

“Eloquent,” Alex commented sarcastically.

John gave him a look. “What do you want? A fuckin’ sonnet?”

Alex shrugged, smiling a bit.

“Still wish you had shot yourself?”

“That’s not a fair question,” Alex replied, a simple smile on his face. “You being nice to me doesn’t change jack shit about my situation. I have no money, no source of income. I’m gonna lose my apartment.”

“Could get another job.”

“They’re gonna call up my old boss, ask why I was fired, and then turn me down because I’m a faggot fucking queer with my cock in the short-order cook's ass,” Alex snorted.

“Can’t help but feel like this was my fault a little bit.”

Alex shook his head. “Nah. Don’t. It’s whatever. I’ll figure something out. I still have some savings from the army. I could use it though, I guess.”

“It’ll be alright.” John clapped Alex’s shoulder. “Come on, we’re stoned, you’re sad, and I’m in a lot of pain. We should sleep.”

Alex stretched, standing up. “Yeah, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You could stay over.”

Alex shook his head.

John smiled, then put his arm around Alex and led the man into his room. “Not a suggestion.”

“This is a felony,” Alex complained halfheartedly. “You’re fuckin’... kidnapping me.”

“Uh-huh,” John mumbled, steering them towards the bed.

Alex laid down on John’s bed, working off his belt. “You ever miss your mom?”

“Not a day goes by when I don’t.” John was changing out of his clothes and wiping blood off of his face. “Closest thing this earth had to an angel, my momma was. Even when she died she looked like an angel. Kindest women on earth, biggest heart.”

“Did she know you were queer?”

“I don’t know. I think so, but I never told her. She’d ask me if I had a girlfriend though, every now and then, and I’d say no, and then she’d tell me that was okay, and to not let anybody make me think that was wrong.”

“Sweet.”

John nodded. “She died too soon.”

“What about your father?”

“Shithead of the earth. Piece of shit mother fucker.” John shook his head, getting a bitter look on his face. If I ever see the man again, I’ll knock him on his ass.”

“What’d he do?”

“Used to beat the shit outta me and my sister, and my momma. He’d come into me and my sister’s room at night and touch her, and then tell me that if I told anyone he’d kill my momma. Man’s a monster, he deserves to die.” John shook his head, then laid down next to Alex. “You never met your daddy?”

Alex let out a sigh. “No. My momma hated men.”

“Ain’t no woman ever succeed without a healthy hatred of men,” John muttered.

“She hated me for being born a boy.”

John pressed his lips together.

“But she loved me, I think. She would’ve, had things been better. Had she gotten out of Germany or something, got to America before all that mess.”

“The holocaust was fucking stupid.”

“It was horrible.” Alex swallowed. “She used to tell me, she’d dig through horse shit, dog shit, cow shit, lookin’ for seeds and corn and shit. She’d eat the leather off of buttons, dirt, the skin around her nails and in her mouth. She couldn’t chew, she got her teeth knocked out you see, but whatever she could get in her stomach, she did.”

John was quiet.

“She’d tell me all this shit, and I just, I wanted to tell her to shut up. I wanted to get her to stop. I wanted her to just stop talking about it. I’m fuckin’ six, and instead of a bedtime story, she’s telling me about watching Nazi soldiers rape a little girl, and then cut out her tongue, and cut off her fingers, so she couldn’t write or say what happened.” Alex felt tears come to his eyes. “All these other kids were getting stories read to them, and I was just… fuck.”

John put his hand on Alex’s hip bone.

“And I feel so selfish for saying all this because what? Oh, yeah, she went through more trauma than everyone in New York combined and yet she’s the bad guy for needing to cope?” Alex shook his head. “I fucking hate myself for every time I’ve ever hated her.”

“It’s okay to hate your parents sometimes, Alex.”

This time, it was Alex who didn’t respond.

“They’re only older versions of us. They’re gonna fuck up. We can hate them for it.”

Alex huffed. “Just wish I had been able to help her.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Wish I had done more.”

“She probably would’ve shot herself regardless of what you had done,” John muttered, closing his eyes. “If I had tried to talk you out of shooting yourself over the phone, you’d probably be in the coroner's office by now, yeah?”

“What’s your point?”

“Point is, sad people are sad. You don’t got much to do with that. Sometimes people are just sad. They either kill themselves or get happy. That’s what you need to do, Alex.”

“Kill myself, or get happy?” Alex muttered.

“Either or,” John replied. “I can help with both, but I’d prefer to help with you getting happy. Might look better on a resume.”

“How do I get happy then, oh wise one?” Alex laughed, looking at John.

“I dunno, commit a felony, do some drugs, find religion.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alex chuckled.

“Come on, we should sleep.” John turned out his lamp, and then found Alex’s hand. “If you tell anyone else what I’m about to say, I’ll kill you, you got that?”

“Alright.”

John took a breath. “If you die, then I’m gonna be real fuckin’ sad.”

“Doesn’t seem like the type of thing people shouldn’t know.”

“Well, it is.” John looked at Alex. “I don’t wanna get soft on you, because that leads to nothin’ good, but I’ll tell you I don’t wanna wake up to find you dead.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“You try better.” John let out an annoyed breath, like Alex’s sarcastically dark comments had made him want to punch a wall. “Night, Hamilton.”

Alex smiled. “Night, John.”


	8. This Time Tomorrow

Eliza was riding Alex with a carelessness that made the sex seem like barely sex. Had Eliza's tits not been on display, and had they not been in such a compromising position, one might assume they were simply hanging out. That's the energy the room held, anyway. They were just talking, thinking.

"So John doesn't do relationships?" Alex started.

"God, Alex, don't go down this path." Eliza laughed. "John doesn't do relationships. Think he got pretty fucked up as a kid or something."

"Why?"

"Well, he was fourteen, and he was sort of seeing this guy who was like, twice his age, and then his sister was getting molested by his father." Eliza snorted. "Wouldn't be surprised if John got touched too. He acts like it, you know. It's no surprise he's so fucked up. I'd be too."

Alex hummed. "Where'd he grow up?"

"South Carolina." Eliza moved her hips in a circular motion, bringing a sound from Alex's throat. "He just grew up in a fucked up fucking world. His momma was a junky, his father was a shithead, one of his brothers killed himself. He'd be pretty pathetic if he wasn't such a piece of shit human being."

Alex snorted. "Yeah."

Eliza stated down at Alex for a moment. "You're not into him, are you?"

Alex shook his head.

"Good, because John's a good guy, but he's a shit friend and a shit man. I don't think being a piece of shit is genetic, but I think if John started dating someone, he'd beat them, rape them, chain 'em to the radiator and starve 'em." Eliza tilted her head back, laughing. "He'd be one of those guys to make a snuff film." She took Alex's hand, playing with it. "Probably would saw a girl's legs off, pull out her teeth, get off on it."

"Jesus Christ, Eliza," Alex muttered.

"Nah, I'm kidding." She shrugged. "Maybe."

Alex rolled his eyes.

"Either way, he's still a fucked up person. I mean, he probably wouldn't do that stuff, but if he did, I wouldn't be shocked."

"If you think he's so shit, why you still friends with him? What if he ties you up? Cuts off your legs and pulls out your teeth?"

Eliza gave a look, basically asking him, 'are you fucking stupid?' before leaning back a bit. "I love John. You can't not love John. Even if he cuts off your legs and pulls out your teeth." She snickered. "I don't think he'd cut off my legs anyway. He likes 'em too much. Says their hot."

Alex touched Eliza's legs. "They are."

"I know." She sighed, grabbing her boobs absentmindedly and staring out the window. "John's a freak, but like, so are you."

"Am I?"

"Yeah, fucking freaky ass. You wouldn't make snuff films, but you'd probably like... no, you'd be like that guy who just got arrested, what's his face? Gacy, that guy. You'd be Gacy. Like, fuckin' normal on the outside, but then you got a bunch of little boy bodies shoved in your basement." Eliza laughed. "Yeah, that's who you are. Freaky, but secretive about it."

Alex laughed. "I don't even have a basement."

"Okay, well you're not literally Gacy," Eliza stated. "But, who knows? Maybe you got a jar of human teeth around here. Take 'em out when you're bored or something. There've been murderers who take little felt squares of their victims' blood, and they keep 'em, and they smell and taste it when they want to."

"Oh, I'm a freak, and here you are, knowing everything about serial killers," Alex laughed.

"Baby, I'm a prostitute in a big city where they could give half a shit about me." Eliza smacked Alex's cheek a bit. "I gotta know who's gonna kill me and who's not."

"You ever hooked up with John?" Alex asked, changing the subject.

Eliza nodded. "Yeah, he's got a good dick."

A flush of heat went through Alex as he thought of Eliza and John hooking up. "Do you know why he doesn't really have sex with just anyone?"

Eliza swallowed. "Yeah."

Alex paused expectantly. "Why?"

"Look, there's a lot about John I'd tell you, but this is something you probably should hear from him, yeah?" Eliza smiled. "Don't get into him though, don't date him, don't become anything official with him."

Alex took a breath. "He'll tie me to the radiator?"

Eliza nodded. "Yeah, he'll fuck you up. Just, keep him at arm's length. He's a good guy to know, but not one I would trust, you know?"

Alex sighed. "You wanna do this thing?"

Eliza cracked her back. "Kind of in the mood to get my titties sucked, you think you handle that?"

Alex pushed himself up, kissing her chest. "Forty?"

"Fifty."

"Fifty?" Alex looked up. "Come on, Liz."

"I'm short on rent!" She defended.

"Forty-five," Alex bargained.

She flicked Alex's forehead but nodded. "You're a cunt."

Alex smiled. "I know."

Alex finished, and since Eliza knew Alex had about as much knowledge of the female vagina as an old boot, and maybe less, she decided to finish herself off at home. She kissed Alex could by, grabbing a handful of his cock before leaving. Eliza was smart enough to know that you should never leave a man satisfied. Get him a little hard right before you leave, and it gives him just enough frustration to call again. She wasn't a prostitute, she didn't like that term. She preferred businesswoman.

Alex sighed, closing his apartment door and wandering through his house. He hadn't gotten a job and hadn't paid rent. His doctor said the depression made him not care about much, and man, the doctor was right. Alex didn't care that he was about to get evicted. He was just waiting for it, really.

His phone began to ring, and Alex guessed it was John. He wanted to ignore it, take a bath and fire blanks into the back of his mouth. John, for fear that Alex was actually going to kill himself, had taken the bullets from Alex's gun but left the gun in the house. Alex would put the gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. It hurt the back of his throat, the air pressure and all, but nothing really happened.

The phone stopped ringing, then started right up again. Alex pulled it off the hanger and put it up to his ear. "Hamilton residence, Alex speaking."

"Alexander, hello."

It wasn't John, it was Alex's landlord. Alex smiled, almost expecting how this was going to go down. "Hey, what's up?"

"I was just wondering when you planned on paying your rent."

Alex nodded. "Oh, I don't."

His landlord seemed surprised. "Pardon?"

"Yeah, lost my job. I have no money. I won't be paying my rent." Alex chuckled. "I can have all my shit packed by tomorrow."

His landlord seemed lost for words. "Oh, uh, alright." He paused. "Alex, are you alright?"

"No, I'm not." Alex laughed. "I'll be out in a bit. Don't disconnect my phone line please, I gotta call a few people."

He hung up before the conversation could go on. Alex looked around his apartment, then went into his bedroom. He threw his clothes in a duffle bag, placing his movies and framed photos in the middle of them. The best part, he thought, of not having an emotional attachment to most of the things you own, is that you can just pack up and leave.

Alex put his books, the last of his cash, and his important paperwork, and a toothbrush in a backpack and then placed it next to the duffle bag. He grabbed his gun, placing it in the waistband of his pants, and then went to the phone, dialing a number.

It rang, and then that jazz singer New York accent came through the earpiece. "This is John."

"Hey, John."

Alex was beginning to sense John's smile. And on the other line of the phone, John was smiling. Smiling like he had just killed a man. "Alexander, what a wonderful surprise. May I ask why you're calling?"

"I need a place to crash for a few days, yeah?"

John stopped. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Alex was quiet, waiting for John to offer.

"Fuckin' ask then," John snapped.

Alex didn't expect John to sound so irritated. "Sorry, is this a bad time?"

"No." John coughed a bit. "But I'm waiting for you to ask."

Alex let out an annoyed breath. "Can I come stay at your place for a few days until I find something more permanent?"

John's smile rang through the phone. "Yes, you can. Get your ass over here. How long until you get here?"

"I dunno. Twenty minutes, maybe." Alex walked over and grabbed his apartment keys off the counter, taking them off his keychain. "Should I bring some food?"

"Nah, I just got a pizza. I'll save you some." John sighed. "I also got beer and tea."

"Might need something stronger," Alex joked.

"You wanna get fucked on some brown tonight?" John asked.

"Brown?"

"God, nevermind. Just come over."

Alex hung up and grabbed his bags, leaving the apartment and setting his keys on the front desk. He left the building and began to walk to John's place. The gun in the waistband of his pants dug into his stomach in an uncomfortable manner, but he ignored it. He once heard of someone shooting their dick off like this. Alex wasn't worried really, the gun was unloaded, and he wasn't going to be making any sudden movement.

He got near John's apartment and began to hold his bags a lot closer. John lived in a dodgy neighborhood, and Alex really didn't want his shit to get stolen. He did have a gun though, and even if it wasn't loaded, only he and John knew that.

Alex got to John's apartment and knocked. John answered it in nothing but his boxers and a single sock. He had a lot of scars on his chest. John didn't seem to be conscious of this though, because he only smiled and pulled Alex into the apartment. He looked like he had tried to clean up, and the act was touching, almost.

Alex set his bags down gently, then looked at John. "Thank you, dude. I really appreciate this."

"Yeah, it's whatever." John pulled Alex to the couch where there was a box of pizza and a paused porno on the dinky TV. A beer looked like it was waiting to be drunk by Alex, which he appreciated.

"So, you got evicted, huh?"

Alex nodded, taking the gun out of his waistband and putting it on the table. "Yeah, blows."

John stared at the gun for a moment, then back to Alex. "No shit."

Alex smiled a bit. "I feel like I should care more, seeing as like, that's the place I've lived the whole time I've been in America, but I just... I don't care."

"Probably best you don't."

Alex nodded, taking a deep breath. "Saw Eliza today."

John hummed.

"What's the deal with your family? Sounds like a fucking shit show," Alex muttered.

"If you know it's a fucking shit show, then you know enough." John took a bite of his pizza. "You don't have to pretend to care about my life just because you're sitting on my couch and eating my pizza."

"Well, you pretend to care about my life," Alex pointed out.

"I don't pretend." John grabbed his hoodie and slipped it on, then turned off the TV. "You're an interesting person."

"Up yours."

John laughed. "I'm serious! You're interesting!" He leaned forward, facing Alex as he folded up a piece of pizza and shoved it in his mouth. "God, the tip is the best part of a pizza." He laughed. "Hey, hey, what's the difference between pizza and dick?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "What?"

"Dick doesn't taste as good when first going into your mouth."

"That's not funny."

John gave Alex a smile and leaned in, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Yeah, I know. But I wanted to make a joke."

"My life is a joke," Alex muttered.

"Well it sure ain't funny like one," John replied.

"You just proved that jokes don't have to be funny."

John took another bite of his pizza. "You know, you could just stay here. The company would be nice, but you'd have to be okay with any sexual partners and friends that come through, as well as the phone ringing at all hours of the night."

Alex chuckled. "Do you even sleep? Feel like you've never really... I mean, I've never seen you sleep. We've laid in bed together, yeah, but I'm always out before you."

"Eh." John shrugged. "Insomnia, drug addiction, have your pick." John took a deep breath, then stood up. "What do you wanna know about my family?"

"Did your dad really touch your sister?"

John nodded, opening a beer on the coffee table and sitting back down. "Every night. We shared a room too, me and my sister. Mom never separated us by sex, just age. My sister and I shared a room because we were the older of the others. Mom had a long streak of miscarriages before she had more kids."

"Did you mom like having kids?"

John nodded. "Loved us. She was the only person who loved me, and no one will ever love me again. I knew that when she died."

"How many siblings did you have?"

"Two brothers, two sisters. One of my brother's offed himself through. Real fucked up, did it in the bathtub so my sister, Martha, she had to find him." John laughed. "He was a fucked up person." John looked at Alex. "I believe suicide is the most selfish thing you could do in this world. Fuck everything else, you got no reason to do that shit. Bullshit."

"Would you have been mad if I killed myself?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, I fuckin' would've." John laughed. "Suicide is such a bullshit coward's way out. Boo fuckin' hoo, you hate yourself. Grow the fuck up. Of course, no one gives a shit about you, you're a sad fucking bastard who lays in bed all day. Get medicated and commit a felony or something."

Alex laughed. "That's your solution?"

"Yeah. There's two types of people, Alex. The ones who follow the law, and the ones who don't. Usually, the ones who don't have been utterly fucked over in life. Been touched by their family, fucked up. You got the life to do illegal shit, but you don't, because you're boring."

"Asshole."

"Hey, you aren't boring by genetics, you're just boring because you're fucking boring. You can change. Nothing wrong with changing." John smiled. "I could help."

"Oh, you could help?"

John smiled like he had a big secret. "Yeah, I can help."

Alex chuckled. "How you gonna do that, huh?"

The man shrugged, hugging his knees to his chest. "I dunno."

"You're stupid."

John leaned forward and planted a wet kiss on Alex's cheek. "Uh-huh. So, do you have like, any plans for a job and stuff?"

Alex shrugged. "I don't know. Kind of sick of the payroll four-oh-one K type of shit, you know?"

John nodded. "Used to work jobs like that, hated it." He paused for a few moments. "You know, you could start helping me out, working with me and stuff like that. It would earn us some cash, and you could pull your weight now that you're living with me permanently."

"This isn't permanent."

"Yes, it is." John tilted his head. "You called me because some part of you wanted to live with me."

"I called you because you're the only person I know."

"You live closer to the Y than you do to my place."

"Thought I'd save my money."

"Subway fare."

"Hopped the turnstile."

John's lips quirked upwards as he stared at Alex. "Alright, but three months from now, when you're still living with me, it's going to be real funny, watching you realize you live here."

"Whatever." Alex hoped that that was how this played out, but he wasn't about to say that out loud. "You said you could get me work?"

"Yeah, I did." John stood up and stretched, then ejected the VHS, which had been paused on an angry red cock since Alex had shown up. "It's not... it's not the work you would tell your grandma about though."

"My grandma's dead."

"Was it the camps? Or something else?"

"She was gassed."

John nodded. "Well, then you won't have anyone to worry about her disapproving of your actions, will you?" He sat back down. "Firstly, I gotta know, how good's your poker face?"


	9. Gold on the Ceiling

“Alright, so wait, what are we doing?” Alex muttered as he and John walked down the street.

“How many times do I have to explain this to you?” John groaned, pulling Alex into an alleyway and pinning him to a wall. “Look, it’s late, wall street guys are coming home from a long night at the strip club, drunk. You sit next to them, both hands on the newspaper, and say nothing. I reach around your back and rummage through their pockets, find some cash, and then we leave. We do this for a couple of hours, and usually, there’s enough to get a meal and a beer, and then the rest goes towards rent.”

“They’re gonna feel it,” Alex pointed out.

“Probably, but then they’re gonna look at you, see both of your hands on the newspaper, and go back to sleep.” John rolled his eyes. “God, you’re gonna be a bad partner in this, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” Alex defended.

“Are you sure?”

Alex nodded.

John let a smile crack on his lips. “You really sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

John pushed Alex against the wall again and brought him into a kiss, a rough one. He gripped Alex’s shoulders with a desperation that would make one think he was starving. Alex could barely kiss back. He was completely at John’s mercy, letting the man stick his tongue into his mouth and touch his crotch.

John pulled away abruptly, looking around, then grabbed Alex’s arm and pulled him out on the street. Alex was still out of breath from the kiss, so John was able to pull him down into the subway station effortlessly. There was a homeless man, pissing in the corner. Someone had earlier vomited on the steps, and John warned Alex not to step in it. When they got on the subway, they stalked up and down the cars of the train until John pulled out a newspaper and handed it to Alex.

“Check it.” He nodded to a man in a tweed suit, sleeping on the train. It was almost too perfect. Alex could _see_ his money clip sticking out of his pocket. He went and sat down next to the man, opening up a newspaper and beginning to read it.

“Stocks went up today,” he commented softly to John.

John’s arm went behind Alex and began to search for the money clip blindly. “Yeah?”

Alex nodded, arching his back a bit so John had more room to move. John placed his other hand on Alex’s thigh and began to kiss up Alex’s neck. Alex knew what John was doing. The glaring faggotry of their actions would distract any onlookers from John’s nimble fingers pulling the money clip out of the sleeping man’s pocket. John slipped his arm back around, putting the money clip subtly in Alex’s back pocket. He stood when the train stopped, and they got off.

The adrenaline running through Alex’s veins was immeasurable. They just stole money from someone. A lot of money. The money clip was thick. Alex wanted to pull it out and count it, but judging by the way John was walking, they weren’t going to do that. John pulled Alex into a men’s bathroom in the station and then into a stall.

“Let’s see it, come on, quick.”

Alex pulled it out of his back pocket and handed it to John.

“Money clip is silver.” John smiled. “We can pawn it. Alright, two tens, three fives, two ones. Score. Come on, let’s catch the next train.”

“Isn’t this enough?” Alex asked.

“Night’s still young, and I’m not horny enough to go home and jerk off just yet.” John began to pull Alex out of the stall, shoving the money clip in a zip-up pocket. “Maybe if we get enough tonight, I’ll take you somewhere nice for dinner tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? Like a date?”

John smiled at Alex, shaking his head. “Shut up.”

They went like this for several trains, pulling in about seventy dollars. At one point, the person next to Alex woke up and looked at Alex with fury, but then realized that Alex and John were too busy making out, and Alex was still holding his newspaper. He muttered something about disgusting fags and went back to sleep.

Seventy dollars was a lot to John, and at this point, it was a lot to Alex too. They were taking the subway home, standing this time and holding onto the pole. John had his arm around Alex, talking about the dinner they were gonna have tomorrow.

“I’m gonna take you to a three-star restaurant,” John started.

“Three whole stars? Wow, John, really treating me,” Alex laughed.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna let you get a whole meal, _and_ an appetizer _or_ dessert. Not both, so you have to pick.”

“Not both. Uh, I’ll pick the appetizer.”

“Oh yeah?” John raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, never liked sweet things, not really, anyway.” Alex shrugged. “What kind of food will we be eating?”

“I dunno, what do you like?”

“Mexican,” Alex decided. “Like the burritos.”

John nodded. “Alright, we can do that.” He reached down and grabbed a handful of Alex’s ass. “What do you want to do when we get home?”

“Porn, beer, tea, all that.” Alex tilted his head. “That alright?”

“God, you are truly good to have around. Someone who gets me.” John pulled Alex a bit closer to him. “Beer, porn, tea, and that pretty little face.” John dragged his fingertips along Alex’s temple. “Your hair is getting longer.”

“You said it looked bad when it was short,” Alex pointed out.

John nodded. “It did.” He pushed it back a bit. “You look like a Miami surfer.”

“Is that bad?”

John shook his head. “Keep growing it, I wanna see what happens.”

Alex reached up and ruffled the choppy brown waves, then scratched his chin and wrapped his arms around John’s neck. “When was the last time you got a haircut?”

“It’s been a while.”

“When was the last time you shaved?” Alex touched the stringy hair on John’s chin.

“Been a while.”

“Showered?”

“Baby, you know the answer to that.” John leaned down and planted a kiss on Alex’s lips. “Why? You wanna know just how gross I am?”

“You need to get cleaned up,” Alex accused.

“Nah, I like the look.”

“If you take a shower…” Alex smiled a bit, placing his hand on John’s chest. “You won’t have to do it alone.” He paused. “Come on, I’ll give you a haircut, and at least trim up what you’ve got going on on your face. You look like someone my mother wouldn’t trust to watch over me.”

John tilted his head back, laughing. “As tempting as that all sounds, I’m pretty alright with the way I am. Besides, don’t like the way the water feels on my skin.”

“I’m gonna tie you down and give you a haircut.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

John was about to say something more when a group of guys passing them muttered something along the lines of, ‘disgusting fags.’

John looked up. “What’d you just say to us?”

“John,” Alex mumbled.

“We said you were fags,” one of the men said. They looked like frat boys, coming back from a party or something. Early twenties, Alex guessed. Sometimes, Alex hated people who didn’t serve. Not because they didn’t fight and die for their country or whatever, but just because he knows they were leading a normal life and he wasn’t, and that wasn’t fair. It was irrational, he knew that, but it still pissed him off.

“Oh yeah?” John smiled. “Say it again.”

The guy talking, a blond with broad shoulders, looked almost confused but was happy to comply. “Fucking fags.”

John’s smile got wider. In a second, he had grabbed the blond by his shoulders and slammed his forehead into the meathead’s nose. A curse word was yelled, and John began to laugh and laugh and laugh, blood that wasn’t his dripped down his face. “Say it again!”

One of the guy's friends came at John, but John pulled out a switchblade and slashed it at him, cutting his arm.

“What the fuck!” The blond yelled. “You’re fucking crazy.”

John twirled his switchblade in his fingers, smiling almost manically with his eyes bulging out of his head. “Yeah? Am I?” He stepped forward and swiped his switchblade at them again, missing on purpose. “Get the fuck out of here, or I’ll cut you like you’re heroin.”

“Fucking-” One of the guys swung and hit John in the face.

John recovered quickly and slashed without purpose at the guy who hit him, getting him in a couple of places. He probably would’ve kept going too, if the train hadn’t stopped and Alex hadn’t used all of his strength to pull John off the train and into the station.

“John, come on!” Alex gasped. “We gotta get outta here!”

John was laughing loudly, running with Alex up to the street, down the final three blocks until they got to John’s place. John was covered in blood, his coat sleeve stained with splatters, his face still dripping with the stuff. He had gotten hit in an awkward place, right where his cheekbone met his nose.

“Good God,” Alex mumbled, pushing John down into a kitchen chair and wetting a washcloth. “You could’ve left it alone.”

“No, I couldn’t have.” John smiled at Alex. “You see their fucking faces? Call me a faggot, fucking assholes.”

“John,” Alex groaned, wiping the blood off of John’s face. “Come on, take off your jacket, I’ll get the blood out.” Alex continued to wipe John’s face as John took his jacket off. John’s hands had blood on them too. Alex made a note to tell John to wash his hands. “God, you’re an idiot sometimes, you know that?”

“I do.” John tilted his head, letting Alex get the side of his face. “But not this time.”

“You are so prone to fighting, aren’t you?”

“I like it. The rush. I know when to pick my fights, but some people just deserve it.” John put his hand on Alex’s hip. “Besides, couldn’t let them call a man like you a name like that, you get it, don’t you, darling?”

Alex shook his head, smiling. “Go wash your hands.”

John stood up, stretching. He grabbed the cash from his coat pocket and brought it into his room. Alex had been staying at John’s for a few days now, and he didn’t mind it. John was a night owl and often didn’t sleep. When he didn’t, he gave Alex the bedroom. When he did, Alex was on the couch. That was alright though, at least to Alex. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. It was well broken in, both by John and the people who owned it before.

“I wish I could buy sex tapes,” John muttered, coming back into the kitchen and washing his hands as Alex scrubbed the blood in the jacket.

“Don’t you already?”

John shook his head. “Pornos and sex tapes are different. Pornos are scripted, sex tapes are two bored middle-aged couples going at it. I want that.”

“Why?” Alex laughed. “That’s like passing up a perfectly good pizza for shrimp in gelatin.”

“Eh, I get bored with the planned porn. I want a sex tape.” John smiled, leaning against the counter. “Alright, I’m gonna roll up the tea, you get the beer.”

“I can do that,” Alex chuckled, rinsing the soap from John’s jacket and draping it over a chair. “There still might be a stain, but I did my best.”

John shook his head. “Nah, the fact that you tried is better than anything else. Besides, there are so many bloodstains on that jacket, it’ll blend right in.” John touched Alex’s hand. “Thanks though, really.”

“No problem.”

John left the room to go get the pot, and Alex rummaged through the fridge, finding the last of the beer. People were always showing up with drinks, so the array of beer they had was random and clunky. Alex didn’t mind it though.

He brought the beer into the living room and then queued up some porn while John rolled joints. Beer was opened, play was pressed, joints were lit, and their Friday night became about four times better in an instant. John kissed up and down Alex’s neck in between hits as they both watched the porn. They were buzzed, half-hard, and riding off of the adrenaline and euphoria of all the money they made.

“Hey,” John mumbled, looking over at Alex, patting his lap. “Come here.”

Alex complied, pants still at the middle of his thighs, and began to kiss John. It didn’t take much prompting for them to begin to jerk off the other. John’s piano player fingers were so fast against the sensitive skin on Alex’s cock, Alex could barely control himself. He rested his head on John’s shoulder, gasping as he tried his best to match pace. The porn in the background gave a fitting soundtrack to the air of the room.

Not being able to help it, Alex started to thrust his hips into John’s hand. Living with John, he thought perhaps the number of sexual acts they participated in would go up, but John was usually pretty content with just jerking it to porn next to each other. This was alright, but it meant whenever John touched him, Alex would turn to jelly.

“Yeah, yeah, oh, John.”

John chuckled and kissed Alex’s neck. “There we go.”

Alex wished he could’ve held out longer, but the whole situation was enough to make him finish before he could even get a handle on it. He stopped touching John, then proceeded to come all over John’s lap and stomach. John, in a moment of desperate need, pushed Alex’s hand away from his cock and jerked himself off, coming a few seconds later and adding to Alex’s mess.

John let out a breathy laugh, kissing Alex’s neck. “That was nice.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah.”

John placed his hands on Alex’s hips, sighing a bit. “You’re a real great person to have around, Alex, you know that?”

A smile was brought to Alex’s lips, though he didn’t respond.

“Wanna go smoke on the fire escape?”

Alex looked up, cracking his back a bit and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

He got off John’s lap and John pulled up his jeans, turning off the TV and grabbing a few beers. They went to John’s room, climbing over his bed and onto the fire escape. His bedroom looked out into an alleyway, which meant a shitty view, but it did provide a bit of protection when the mood to do things like this hit them.

“I do a lot of illegal things,” John started as they sat down. “Not just stealing money clips.”

Alex nodded.

“Sometimes it gets me into trouble. Sometimes you might get a call from me, telling you I’m in jail. Don’t come bail me out. I’ll be okay for the twenty-four hours.”

“What kind of illegal stuff do you do?” Alex asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

John smiled softly. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“You pick me apart piece by piece until you know almost everything about me, and yet you never allude to a single detail of your own life. Why?”

“Don’t like talking about my own life.” John shrugged, taking a hit of his joint. “Rather talk about you.”

Alex paused, thinking. “Eliza said you don’t do relationships.”

“I don’t.”

There was another pause as Alex tried to figure out what he wanted to say. “This kinda feels like one.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“You sure?”

John nodded, taking a long hit from his joint. “Alex, we could die at any minute. I will never hold myself down with anyone for any reason, and you shouldn’t either. Yeah, we got a little somethin’ somethin’ on the side, but if you go off and fuck Eliza or something like that, I’m not gonna be mad or anything. It’s whatever. Free love and all that shit.” John shrugged. “I mean, we ain’t the type of people to settle down in a white picket fence, are we?”

Alex shook his head.

“Exactly.” John smiled. “Just, leave it alone. Go with the flow, Alex, and the flow will go with you.” John leaned forward a bit. “And with the cold war going on, we could get bombed any moment now. Think about it, Alex. We live in downtown Manhattan. America’s finances live and breathe here. If you were going to bomb this country, wouldn’t the financial district in Manhattan be the place to do it?”

“I would think the white house would,” Alex admitted.

“If you cut the head off the chicken, it’ll still run around for a few minutes, knocking shit over. Gotta get its legs off too, then it’s just a dead chicken.”

“Okay, where would you bomb America before you bomb the white house?”

John thought. “Financial district in Manhattan, definitely. Then, maybe… the Pentagon. But they have a lot of security, so I’d bomb near the pentagon. I’d have all the embassy buildings wiped out, then communications, then the white house.”

“Smart.”

“But if I could just be like, one and done?” John thought. “The South Carolina State Museum.”

“Why?”

“Because they’d take my class there on field trips and it was fucking boring. What about you?”

“Fort Drum.” Alex sighed, taking a hit of his joint. “It was the army base I was stationed at before leaving for Nam.”

“That’s a good thing to bomb.”

Alex nodded. “Didn’t they try to draft you? I mean, I wasn’t really drafted, but a lot of the guys I fought with were.”

“According to the US military, I’m severely suicidal, with schizophrenia and homicidal thoughts.” John smiled. “Had to take a shit in front of six people while laughing maniacally, but my pride isn’t worth my morals.”

“Fair enough,” Alex chuckled a bit. “Wonder what it would've been like, being army buddies with you.”

“Fucking miserable,” John replied. “I would’ve done everything I could to get out.”

There was a silence between the two of them as they listened to cars go by on the street. John stretched his leg out, letting it hang off the side of the fire escape and swing. Alex felt tired and heavy.

“What are we doing with our lives?” Alex asked.

“Nothing, why?”

“Just thinking.” Alex shook his head. “We could’ve been something.”

“You, maybe, but I was destined to be a fuck up.” John laughed. “There was no hope for me. I was born with heroin running through my veins, my momma could never knock the habit enough to keep us out of it. Doctors said I was bad in the brain. Too slow in school and all that shit.”

Alex nodded.

“S’not my fault.” He smiled, then took a hit off the joint. “But yeah, if you had gone to college and not war, you’d probably be a manager for a credit card company or something.”

Alex laughed.

“Hey, you should sleep, you look tired.”

“I am.”

John stood up and then helped Alex up. “You can have the bed. I’m too tired to go to sleep. Gonna stay up a little bit.”

They climbed back into the window and Alex got onto the bed. The clock said two am. Alex never stayed up like this before he met John, but as the time had continued to pass, and their friendship continued to grow, some of John’s habits became Alex’s too. Of course, Alex couldn’t stay up all night as John did, but he was beginning to run off of less and less sleep.

“Hey,” John muttered, rummaging through a drawer and grabbing a few things. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Alex nodded.

“And dinner tomorrow, you and me, and we can get drinks afterward at a stupid fag bar, alright?”

Alex chuckled. “Yeah, alright.”

“Night, Alex.”

“Night, John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me how you're liking this so far.


	10. Waves of Fear

In his life, John had seen a lot of people have mental breakdowns. It was a part of growing up in such a fucked up situation. John had witnessed his mother smoke crack and then proceed to burn all the photos on the wall because they were ‘watching her.’ John had watched his sister Martha shave off all her hair and then in bed that night, tie her legs together so tightly that she had dark bruises for months. John watched his brother Henry scream until there was blood in his mouth as he tried to get that gun out of John’s hand.

The ones that hurt the most were the ones his mother had. John absolutely adored his mother. In his eyes, she could do no wrong. She was like the Virgin Mary. To the outside world, John’s mother was an addict with frizzy hair who couldn’t read and bought all her food with food stamps. To John, she was everything good about this world. On nights when she was sober enough, she would lie in bed with John and play with his hair, telling him stories that she knew. They would watch a lot of TV together, whatever movie was on because his mother couldn’t read. She would always say something about the actors because the interviews with them were always playing at the nail salons she worked at. She could never keep a job for long, her addiction and bad habits tended to get in the way, but she was a hard worker when she wanted to be.

John hated seeing her in a state of such disarray that she didn’t even know who her children were. John had a scar on his arm from when he was trying to talk her down from a bad trip, and she had swung a knife at him, thinking he was trying to hurt her. John loved his mother so much though. When she died, he could barely get out of bed for days. All he could think was that it should’ve been him who had died. He would’ve traded places with his mother in an instant.

Her death truly rocked the Laurens family. His father, now having no wife to beat and rape, took it out on his children. James and Mary were too young for their father to do anything to. Apparently even the devil can have morals. But him, Henry, and Martha were right at that sweet spot where he could beat them without feeling too bad about it, if at all. Henry eventually shot himself. He was so young, didn’t even have hair on his chest when he did it. John, that night, had shot himself full of heroin and let his eyes roll back in his head for a few hours. He didn’t know what had happened. When he came back to it, there was an ambulance in front of the trailer, and a dead body being wheeled out.

His sister refused to tell him what had happened, or she couldn't. She was in hysterics, sobbing and screaming, pulling out her hair. John was still under the effects of the heroin, and he could barely even process what was going on. He remembered vomiting into the flower pots out front though, and he remembered holding his sister and making sure she didn’t throw herself in front of the ambulance.

John had pushed his bed up against their bedroom door that night, and he and his sister slept in the bottom bunk together. Well, neither of them slept. Martha cried into John’s chest, and John laid there, holding his sister and trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

The funeral was an awkward and boxy affair. Stiff extended family showed up, not wishing to acknowledge how starved John and Martha looked. Martha, who hadn’t slept in days, didn’t stop crying the entire time. John, who had taken about half a bottle of Oxycontin that morning, threw up several times throughout the whole affair and then passed out into some rose bushes, causing Martha, who was already in hysterics, to cry harder.

Death had been a disease to that family. John and Martha, a few months after Henry shot himself, packed up and took Mary and James to live at an aunt’s house before leaving for New York. They were going to stick together, they were, but Martha got in with people who didn’t like John all that much, and John got in with people who didn’t like Martha’s people all that much, and they decided it would be best that they live their own lives. The first couple of months was really difficult for John. He and his sister had always been friends, and now they weren’t, not really anyway. But Martha needed a life outside her family, and John didn’t need to live with someone who looked just enough like his mother to scare him, and just enough like his father to scare him.

His life had been full of fucked up people, fucked up mental issues, fucked up breakdowns. But those had been for reasons John could understand. He knew what his sister had been through because he was just on the other side of the room while it happened. He knew enough to be able to help. But, he didn’t know what it was like to go to war. So when Alex woke up in a panic, talking about how they were gonna bomb the base, and they needed to get out, John’s only clear thought was to get Alex high. Really high.

“Alex, Alex, sit down,” John huffed, cleaning off the spoon. “Come on.”

“No, no, John, we gotta get out of here. They’re gonna blow it out. We’re gonna die if we stay any longer.” Alex shoved his gun in the waistband of his pants.

John knew enough to know that the only way to get someone in hysterics to calm down for a moment was to hit them really hard in the head. So, John balled up his fist and hit Alex in the side of the head as hard as he could. It knocked Alex over, and he began to shake his head, blinking really hard. John only had a few seconds to work, so he shoved Alex onto the couch, tied up his arm, and began to heat up the heroin.

“John, we gotta get out of here,” Alex muttered, beginning to get up. “What are you doing? John, we gotta go, we gotta go.” He was beginning to regain what had been knocked out of him when John hit him. “They’re gonna fucking-” He closed his eyes, covering his ears. It was pretty quiet in the apartment, aside from the bubbling of the melting heroin, but he could hear gunshots, screaming, orders being yelled. “We have to go!”

John filled the syringe with the melted liquid and then proceeded to hold Alex down, grabbing the tied up and looking for a vein. Alex had never shot up before, and John forgot what veins that had never endorsed the abuse his had looked like. They were bulging out of Alex’s skin, thanks to the tie right above his elbow. Alex was beginning to thrash, so John knew he was going to have to do this quickly. It was only a little bit, just enough to knock Alex out of his senses for a little bit.

John held down Alex’s arms and shoved the needle into the vein, pushing the heroin into Alex’s body faster than a newbie should probably get.

The reaction took seconds. Alex went from panicked, to limp, drooling, with his eyes hooded and only the whites visible.

John sat back on the coffee table, taking a deep breath. He had never seen Alex so panicked. He had pushed stuff up in front of the windows, thrown random shit in a bag, and tried to bombproof the apartment. While Alex was out, John cleaned up the mess and put a record on. He had only gotten two or three hours of sleep that night, but that was enough.

He stood up and slipped on his shoes, leaving Alex on the couch to feel however he was feeling, then left the apartment. He went to the bodega on the corner and bought a coffee and a shitty hot dog, then began walking down the street.

The night had always been a nice time for John. If he slept at all, he probably would’ve been nocturnal. But, luckily, he didn’t sleep, so he could be king of the day and the night. John sipped his coffee and ate his hotdog. Because of Alex, he began to worry about his sister. John finished off his hotdog and stopped at a payphone. He put in a few dimes and dialed Martha’s number, holding the phone to his ear as he sipped his coffee.

“This is Martha.”

John almost smiled. “Hey, Martha.”

“John, hey.”

There was a quiet moment before John spoke up. “Are you alright?”

“I think so.” Martha laughed her ditzy laugh. “Yeah, I’m not bleeding or anything.”

John hummed. “Just thinking about you. My roommate went off his knocker for a little bit, got me worried about you. Just checking in.”

“Mm, I’m alright.” Martha laughed, and John could almost see her sliding down the wall. She couldn’t just stand for very long. Blood sugar was never high enough. “Do you know who called me recently?”

“Who?”

“Mary.”

“How’s she?”

“Still a fucking cunt.” Martha laughed, sounding like she was higher than John. Martha was in a constant state of high though. Pupils were permanently pinpoint. The whites of her eyes were always red. If she could manage to find a vein to shoot up in, it was considered a miracle by the church. “She told me that daddy was in the hospital again. He’s getting older you know.”

“Yeah?”

“When he dies, let’s go to the funeral together. Let’s go and you… you can piss on his grave. I’ll cover you.”

John laughed. “We’re going to Hell.”

“No, we’re not.” Martha let out a grunt, and John assumed it was because she had tipped over and was now lying on the floor. “John, every day, I wake up, and I pray that that man has choked in his own vomit.” Martha laughed. “Remember when I almost died?”

“Which time?” John muttered.

Martha scoffed. “The time when, when Mom was still alive, and we got wasted on a bottle of vodka, and then I almost drowned in my own vomit, and you had to flip me over.”

“You are so bad at being an alcoholic because it almost kills you every time.”

Martha burst out laughing, so loud that John had to pull the phone away from his ear. “John, why do Mary and James help him?”

“People get more pathetic as they get older.”

“They don’t care what he did to us,” Martha muttered, her voice sounding sad.

“No, they don’t.” John’s face got hard and bitter. “But fuck ‘em.”

“Yeah, fuck ‘em.” Martha laughed again. “What are you doing?”

“I’m in a payphone, just talking to you. Wanted to get out. Where you living at now?”

“I’m in Queens.” Martha let out a long sigh and then began to cough violently. That lasted a few seconds, and then she stopped. “I like it here. It’s quieter. Hushed. Don’t want it to ever change. I like the quiet. It’s everything home wasn’t.”

John was quiet for a bit, thinking. “You come around whenever, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“I love you, Martha.”

“I love you too, John.”

“Have a good night.”

“You too.”

John put the phone back on the receiver and left the payphone, still drinking his coffee. It was never quiet in Manhattan, and John liked that. He had nowhere to go, and no one to see really, so he just walked around a bit before going back to the apartment. Alex was knocked out on the couch, so John decided to shoot up himself. It was harder to find veins now.

He tried to avoid using the ones in his arms too often, and since he had shot up in his arm last time, he was tying the rubber tie around his ankle, waiting for something to show itself in his foot. It took a while, but eventually, John could locate a vein. He heated up the heroin, then injected it into said foot vein and undid the tie. It took a couple of seconds, but then he was hit with such a euphoria that it knocked him back on the couch. He didn’t pass out, he rarely did anymore as long as he was dosing correctly, but the drug made it impossible for him to move.

He turned his head to stare at Alex, who was sleeping on the other end of the couch. Sometimes, when you were on heroin, you could come without even getting hard. This was one of those times. John could barely muster a sound from the back of his throat, but the proof was there.

There was no amount of heroin that was too much for John anymore. He had been using the drug since he was sixteen. Every couple of months or so, he would get clean, just so when he started up again, the feelings would be like it was the first time he had ever touched the stuff. He hadn’t gotten clean in a while though, so he really had to fill up the syringe before injecting it into himself.

In a few minutes, the high was gone and done, but John was still drowsy and out of it. Heroin highs were unreasonably short but so good. It was like an orgasm. A few minutes of endorphins and then you were done. John had been doing this since he was sixteen, since his mother died and he found her stash. He had injected too much that first time and Martha had to leave him on the front steps of a hospital with no ID or money. He got some Narcan, an IV, and a pamphlet about drug addiction, then was sent home. When he did it again, he used less, and that was what got him hooked. At first, he just wanted the euphoria of the high, but as he continued, it stopped being about feeling good and started being about not feeling bad. He started doing heroin to avoid the withdrawal. And then he went through the withdrawal, saying that this was it forever.

That was a lie.

He only held onto that promise for a month or so, then started right back up again. He found a good pattern of getting clean and then starting again kept the resistance to the drug at bay and kept the highs feeling good. John knew he probably needed to get clean again soon.

He ended up falling asleep. When he woke up, the phone was ringing. Alex was stirring, so he wasn’t dead. John got up and picked up the phone, yawning loudly before he could even begin to talk.

“This is John.”

“Hey, Johnny, my math says you should be low.”

John smiled his Cheshire smile at the sound of George’s voice. George was his supplier. Anything and everything could be bought from George. John was just in it to get drugs to sell, but the man could get you anything from C4 to rhino tusks. He had no opinions on anything, no politics, no social matters. He was purely neutral. And that was how you’re supposed to be as a middle man. 

“Well, George, you seem to be correct.” John smiled. “I picked up some crazy cash the other night on the train, so if you would like to come over and sell me something, my door just might be open.”

“Might it?” George seemed unamused almost with the way John spoke. “I can get there by noon.”

“Just knock.”

John hung up the phone and looked back to Alex, who was sitting up and rubbing his head. Alex seemed still really out of it, and tired.

“What happened?” Alex mumbled quietly.

“You had a freak-out, I gave you some drugs to calm you down.”

Alex looked to the syringe on the table, then back to John. “Did you give me heroin?”

“It got you to calm down.” John began to make coffee.

“Wait, I can’t be addicted to heroin, am I addicted to heroin? What the fuck did you do?” Alex gasped, standing up. He swayed for a second, then ran to the kitchen trash can and vomited. “What the fuck?”

“Relax.” John leaned back against the counter. “You can’t get addicted after one go. And it’s not like you even got that much. You just took it like that because you’ve never touched a painkiller in your life.”

“John, I can’t do heroin.”

“Then maybe don’t have your fucking freakouts where you act like our apartment is about to get bombed,” John muttered.

Alex looked embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“It’s whatever. Why do you get those?”

“The war.”

“Huh.” John thought for a moment. “You’re really though, not addicted. It takes way more heroin to get addicted.”

“How much?”

“Twice a day, every day, for at least two months. That’s how you form a habit.”

“Do you have a habit?” Alex asked.

John shrugged, smiling over his shoulder. “When I want to.”

Alex was quiet.

“What? You really thought I didn’t do anything besides beer and tea? Alex, look at me.” John laughed. “I practically scream junky. It’s why I don’t shower, why I don’t sleep, why I barely eat.” John shook his head. “All the signs were there. You just didn’t wanna see it.” John licked his lips, smiling with his head cocked. “Coffee?”

Alex nodded.

“If you’re gonna be weird about this, I’m kicking you out of my place,” John stated. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You do heroin, that’s kind of a big deal,” Alex pointed out.

“Stop listening to those stupid anti-drug commercials. What? You think Regan actually started a war on drugs? He injected heroin into the veins of poverty, and look at what he made! A million babies born with opiates running through their bodies. Addicted before they could even walk.” John laughed. “Something about this is normal, Alex. It’s more normal than the nuclear families and the nuclear wars. The middle class is depleting, we’re going to go under.” John laughed. “Might as well go out with a bang.”

“I don’t think you have a clue what you’re saying,” Alex muttered.

John leaned over and planted a big wet kiss on Alex’s cheek. “Ain’t it wonderful?”

Alex almost smiled. “So, what? That’s really all there is to it? I’m living with a junky?”

“Yeah, you are.” John poured the boiling water into the French press. “Coffee?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

John poured two cups and sat down. “Don’t do those freakouts anymore. I didn’t like that.”

“I can’t really control it,” Alex told him.

“It just happens?”

“Just happens.”

John thought for a little bit, sipping his coffee. Alex sipped his coffee too. John didn’t really know what to say to that. He wanted to help, but not in a way that made it look like he cared. “You should smoke more weed.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I have a friend coming over later. I need you to get out of the house. Call Eliza and buy her something or whatever. I dunno, I don’t care. Just, get scarce.”

Sometimes John did this, and Alex never argued it, because it was, after all, John’s apartment. “Alright, I can do that.”

John stood up, sighing. “You should take a shower. It’ll wake your system up a little more. Eat something too. Get a hotdog or whatever.”

Alex chuckled and leaned back. “I will.” He greeted the kiss on his cheek with grace.


	11. Venus In Furs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got to facetime with my history class today and honestly? I miss them so much.

Alex woke up to a blowjob. It was an early sunny morning, rare for the lateness in the year, and John had pulled Alex from his sleep with an intimate blowjob. Alex lay there, one leg propped up on John’s shoulder, the other leg off the bed with his boxers swinging from his ankle. John was completely naked, something Alex rarely saw. His legs were about as skinny as his arms, with knobby knees and hairy thighs and shins.

John’s fingers were also in Alex, moving around. Oh, those long nimble fingers, finding all the right places in Alex’s body. All Alex could do was let his mouth fall open and his head fall back into the mattress. He ran his hand through John’s greasy dark hair, curling it between his fingers and tugging it when John would get his fingers in the right place.

It was embarrassing for Alex to quickly admit, before John stuck his fingers in, that he hadn’t douched in a long time, seeing as their sexual activity had been a minimum of late. John just rolled his eyes, told Alex that he hadn’t showered in three weeks anyway so it didn’t make a difference, and then shoved his fingers inside Alex.

“John, I’m gonna, ah!” Alex arched up into John’s mouth, gasping as he did. John took it all in his mouth, then pulled Alex into a kiss. Alex didn’t expect the amount of come that was about to be spilled into his mouth, and he began to cough. John kept kissing him though, not caring how gross the kiss was becoming. John wiped his hand off on the bed, then pulled away from the kiss and spit the rest of the come onto Alex’s face.

“God,” he muttered. “You make it really hard not to fuck you until you cry sometimes.”

“What’s stopping you?” Alex muttered, feeling come slide across his cheek, on his lower eyelid, in the crack between his lips.

John shook his head, smiling before licking some of the come off of Alex. “You’re stupid.” He ran his hand down Alex’s bare thigh. “You got nice stems. Long, smooth. You shave em?”

Alex shook his head.

“Fuckin’ twink.” John smiled and kissed Alex’s neck. “God, your body.”

Alex felt heat creep into his cheeks.

John licked and nipped at Alex’s neck, rubbing his thigh. Alex thought for a second, John might be initiating something, but it only took a few more minutes for him to sit up again, still completely naked, and look around the room. “What should we do today?”

Alex put his hand on John’s inner thigh, brushing his thumb against the pale brown skin. “I like what we’re doing right now.”

“Yeah?” John took a corner of the sheet and wiped Alex’s face off. “Can I come on your face?”

Alex nodded.

John scooted closer, his knees right under Alex’s arms. He sat on Alex’s chest, then began to touch himself. Alex hooded his eyelids as he watched John jerk off. Every now and then, John would bring the tip of his cock to Alex’s lips, and Alex would offer a swipe of the tongue as encouragement. Semen dripped down Alex’s chin and onto his neck. When John finally splooged, it got all over Alex’s face, and a bit in his eyes,

Alex licked a bit off of his lips. “Did you like that?”

“God, I wanna make you scream.”

Alex smiled, tilting his head back. “I could probably fit your entire cock down my throat, you know that? In the army, the men aren’t nice. They don’t care what you say, they shove your head down until your nose is right buried in their stomach. It hurt at first, but I got good at it. Think about how good I could fit your cock in my mouth.”

John’s smile faded a bit, and he shook his head. “We should do something more than lie in bed.”

Alex frowned as John got up, tossing an old tee shirt to Alex to wipe off with.

“We need to do laundry,” John muttered. “I don’t got any more boxers that don’t smell bad. Even I got a limit.”

Alex laughed, pushing himself up on his elbows and wiping his face. “Yeah, my white tee shirts ain’t lookin’ so white anymore.”

John pulled out a denim jumpsuit and a tee-shirt, putting them both on and looking at Alex. “Come, get dressed. Let’s go to the laundry room.”

“This place has a laundry room?”

John shrugged a bit. “Of sorts.”

Laundry room was a bit of an overstatement. Laundry closet would have better described it. Apparently, when John first moved there, he got all of his jeans stolen and pawned when he left them in the washer to go do some things, so he was adamant about staying there while they washed. There was about a foot of space between the wall and where the two machines stood. Both Alex and John ended up sitting on the washer and dryer, drinking from the flask John had brought along.

“I remember when I first saw you,” John started. “You looked like the most boring mother fucker, with your buzz cut and your fuckin’... face.” He laughed, tilting his head back. “Now look at you.”

“Look at me,” Alex chuckled.

“You look like someone I’d almost willingly talk to.”

“You willingly talked to me that first night.”

“Yeah, but only because I wanted to suck your cock.” John laughed. “You’re starting to look like a normal person now, though.” He ran his hand over Alex’s scruffy hair. “I like it longer. Don’t cut it, or I’ll kick you out.”

Alex smiled. “Would you really?”

John nodded. “Aesthetics are very important in my life-”

“Bullshit!”

“Yeah, you’re right.” John took a sip from the flask. “But if I had to sit across from you with a buzzcut every morning, I’d shoot myself.”

“Hey, I’m barely surviving with that ugly mug,” Alex shot back.

John smiled, then leaned forward and planted a small kiss on Alex’s lips. “I could get a sex change.”

Alex raised his eyebrows, not seeing where this was coming from. “You could.”

John shook his head. “I’d be a terrible woman. Eliza sometimes makes me crossdress though, and we go clubbing.”

Alex tried to picture John in a dress. “I’d like to see that.”

“I bet you would.” John tilted his head a little bit. “I’m a business owner, you know that?”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!”

“You are a compulsive liar!” Alex laughed, sipping the flask. “You told me, when we first met, that you were a doctor! You lie all the time! You lied just now with the aesthetics and all that bullshit.”

John waved his hand. “Whatever. I do own a business. It’s just not a normal business.”

“Oh yeah? What do you sell?”

“Medicine.”

“Medicine?”

John nodded. “All types of medicine. Medicine that makes you energetic, medicine that makes you tired, medicine that makes you feel really good.” John took the flask from Alex’s hand and gulped down a mouthful. “All the medicine a doctor won’t give you.”

Alex creased his brows. “You’re a drug dealer?”

“I prefer the term, street pusher. But yes, dealer, pusher, medicine man. Whatever you choose to call it.” John laughed. “I was gonna not tell you, but I feel like, now that we’re living together, it would get pretty hard to avoid it.”

“Is that where you get your heroin?”

“I always put aside a few caps for myself.” John smiled. “Pays the rent though, doesn’t it?”

Alex leaned back. “What do you sell?”

“Just about anything. Junk, mud, tea, goofballs, charge, G, horse, P.G, speedballs, white stuff, yen pox, and the occasional spike, though those are easy to pick up. I got a supplier in the upper west side, good guy, beat the shit outta me a couple of times. That was my fault though.” John laughed. “Anything that any junky, head, cat, chick, oil burner, hog, John, Mark, popcorn can’t get from a croaker. I mean, you can usually get some white stuff or mud from the croakers, but eventually, they stop writing, and that’s where I, the loyal pusher, come in.”

Alex nodded.

“See, junkies will do just about anything to get junk. No one likes the sick, no one wants to do the cure. One thing about being a pusher, a smart pusher at least, is that you serve to personalize each price. We got these homeless folks coming towards me, three dollars a cap and that’s it. But I got a few regulars, a few joybangers who knock on my door with a thousand-dollar watch. Three dollars a cap? Ten dollars per gram of white stuff? Nah, bullshit. This is where you make the money. You gotta milk ‘em. They got a private bank account that Daddy’s been stocking full of cash. My job is to drain it.” John shook his head. “Joybangers are bullshit anyway.”

“What are joybangers?” Alex asked.

“People who do junk or brown stuff only every now and then, just for the fun of it. Usually popcorns-”

“Popcorns?”

“People with real jobs.”

“You talk in a different language,” Alex accused.

John smiled. “I learned how to sell junk from the people who sold junk in the forties. I don’t use the same slang we do now because that’s not how I grew up.”

“There were pushers in South Carolina?”

John laughed. “There’re pushers everywhere. You probably don’t go a day without meeting one. And now, business is good. Everyone’s addicted to heroin, or liking it. When you’re a peddler, a pusher, The Man, you run the city. I could get into any building I want to, when I want to.”

“Are you like, the only one?”

“Nah, course not.” John smiled. “But I’m the only one for this area. I got Chinatown, Greenwich, and East Village. I’m a God to these people.” He took a sip from the flask. “Everyone knows my name but no one says it. Don’t need no heat knockin’ on my door.”

“How do you make money off of it?” Alex asked. “I mean, you can’t get a popcorn every day.”

John shook his head. “My supplier, he gives me clean heroin. Fresh, raw, pure.” John did a chef kiss. “Almost sweet. Here’s what I do. I cut it. Ten percent per cap. Milk and sugar to cut. You make all your money off of junk. You can’t really cut tea, so you just add ten percent of what you paid and go. Coke can be mixed with whatever white pills you find in the medicine cabinet, or baking soda. Once knew a guy who used lye to cut it. Still in prison for the guy that died like that. We don’t want our customers to die.” John smiled. “Usually, you just add money to what you paid, but heroin is easy to cut.”

Alex nodded. “And you do this all alone?”

“I have a few connections, a few rats who work for me and make sure no one’s running their mouth, no heat is coming for me. Make sure I don’t sell to a fink. They also make sure I stay under the radar of the people.” John smiled. “In return for that, if they come over lookin’ to score, maybe I just let ‘em.”

Alex hummed, thinking. “But the selling, doesn’t that get dangerous or suspicious when you don’t have someone to cover you?”

“Like a hook?” John raised his eyebrow. “I dunno, what do you think?”

Alex shrugged.

“Have you ever done goofballs before?”

Alex shook his head.

John pulled out six pills and handed three to Alex. “They’re usually for junky users who don’t have access to junk. Takes the edge off. I’m gonna get clean for a month or so, so I might as well start now.”

“Why?”

“Because when you come back, your resistance to it is so much less.” John downed the pills with the liquid in the flask, and Alex did the same. “Taking the capsules is much easier,” John began. “Because I can barely find a vein anymore.” He tilted his head back and laughed. “Remember when I shot you up to get you out for a little bit?”

Alex nodded.

“I wanted to do some too, so I did.” John let his head lull forward. “But I couldn’t find a vein in my arm, or even my neck, so I had to use one in my foot.” He looked back up at Alex. “Shoot up enough and your veins stop popping to the surface.”

Alex nodded.

“Since you’ve never done these before, lemme tell you what’s going to happen to you.” John swallowed hard. “You’re gonna get a lot of spit in your mouth, you’re gonna feel nauseous and dizzy, and you might even hallucinate. You’re gonna get excited, and you won’t be able to remember a lot of this. You won’t.” John laughed. “Neither will I.”

Alex nodded. “How we gonna get our laundry up?”

John shrugged. “We will.”

And somehow, they did. They were high at this point, really high. John called over some friends, and they brought tea and beer and other pills. The goofballs had a stronger effect on Alex than they did on John, and Alex could barely get up from the couch. He didn’t remember someone who wasn’t John helping him to the bedroom, taking off his clothes and having his way with him, not really at least. But he did remember John yelling, and he remembered being really hot. He wanted to open a window, but he couldn’t. Alex also remembered John taking him to the bathroom, and he remembered throwing up.

Waking up the next morning, his head hurt like a mother fucker. He was one sock away from being totally naked, and his mouth tasted like vomit. He walked out into the kitchen where John was, after getting dressed of course, and sat down.

“Morning sunshine,” John smiled. “You alright?”

“I think so.”

“You remember much from last night?” John asked.

“I remember throwing up.” Alex smiled. “Pretty sure I had sex. Pretty sure it was with one of your friends.”

“That jackass wasn’t my friend,” John muttered, sitting down and handing Alex a coffee.

“Then why was he in your house?” Alex asked, smiling cheekily at John.

“I dunno, he was just in my house.” John sipped his coffee and looked at Alex. “Really though, you alright?”

Alex nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

John shrugged, looking down at his coffee with a guilty look on his face. “No reason, I guess.” He sighed. “Did you like goofballs?”

“I think I had too much,” Alex admitted.

“Yeah.” The look of guilt on John’s face increased a bit. “I was drunk. I shouldn’t have dosed you up that much. Someone like you? Probably should’ve only had one.”

“Eh, it’s alright.” Alex sipped his coffee. “Got a killer headache though.”

John nodded. “That’ll happen.”

Alex looked around the dingy apartment, thinking for a little while. “I think I’m gonna go see Eliza today. I dunno, fool around. I’m bored.”

“Yeah, you probably should.” John snickered. “Fuck the hangover out of you.” He sighed. “I got some people I need to see today as well, a few deals I need to make. I’ll buy dinner tonight. I was thinking Chinese.”

“Chinese is good.” Alex stood up to go get dressed, then looked back to John. “You really don’t think you need anyone else helping you when it comes to this business and all? Like, no one at all?”

John shrugged. “I dunno, I don’t think so. Most of the stuff is pretty covered, and it’s not like I’m gonna have the heat on my back any time soon.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

John gave Alex a curious look. “Why?”

Alex shrugged. “I dunno.”

“I think you do.”

Alex stopped, thinking for a moment. “Yeah, I do.”

“Why, then?”

“I dunno.” Alex looked at the table, then his half-empty coffee cup. “Maybe I was just wondering if I was any use to you in that area.”

John raised an eyebrow, leaning back. “Damn, I’ve really fucked you up, haven’t I?” He laughed. “Five months ago, if I came up to you and asked you if you wanted to help me deal drugs, I think you might’ve fucked me up. Now look at you.”

Alex chuckled.

“And maybe yeah, I could use you. Go fuck Liz for a little bit, let me think of a few things. I’m sure I have some errands you could run, some people you could talk to. Maybe you’ll come in handy.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“And hey.”

Alex looked at John.

“You look fuckin’ hot today.”

“You’re charming.”

John gave a Cheshire smile and sipped his coffee. “I know I am, gorgeous.”


	12. Coney Island Baby

Since John ate fuck all, Alex was the one who would go to the store and get coffee, milk, eggs, bread, and peanut butter. It was the base of the two men’s diets, those food groups. John claimed he could live for the rest of his life off of that. Alex, who had a much better idea of how scurvy worked, knew he couldn’t. He never argued though. He was getting good at that.

Alex had just gotten home with the few groceries when he realized that John was having sex in the bedroom. Alex knew from the way the headboard banged against the wall, and from the fact that he could see it since the bedroom door was open. Alex decidedly chose to not interrupt them, and then went into the kitchen and began to put away the groceries. He got out some cold pizza and read until the two in the bedroom ultimately finished.

Out of the room came Lafayette in nothing but his boxers, smiling a bit to himself. He paused though, upon seeing Alex. “Oh, uh, hey dude.”

Alex looked up, smiling. “Hey.”

“You live here now,” Lafayette nodded.

“I do.”

“Sorry for the noise.”

“It’s whatever, nothing compared to the shit I was making your mom say,” Alex stated crudely, snickering to himself.

“My mom’s dead.”

Alex took a bite of his pizza, nodding. “Mine too.”

“Then aren’t we all just peas in a pod?” Lafayette laughed, going into the bathroom to take a shit.

John came out next, smiling and sitting down next to Alex, taking a bite of his pizza. “Hiya, gorgeous.”

“Hey, John,” Alex chuckled. “You in a good mood?”

“I’m in a great mood.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. “Fantastic really.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” John’s foot touched Alex’s shin, smiling. “Get anything special at the store?”

Alex shook his head, taking his pizza back and popping the last bit of it in his mouth. “No, not really. Just kind of got the usual. What are we doing today, hm? Getting into any trouble? Lush working?”

John tilted his head. “Look at you, getting in with the slang.”

Alex’s chest filled with pride from the praise John was giving him. “Yeah. For real though, what’re we doing?”

“Sucking my dick!” Lafayette announced, coming out of the bathroom. “I wouldn’t use that for a while.”

“Go light a match in there or something,” John muttered.

Lafayette leaned down and pulled John into an intense kiss, reaching up the ragged robe John was wearing and most likely grabbing his cock. Alex decided it best he looked at the table while this went on, it felt a bit private. He could hear the wet smacking and John moaning, and he hated how it went straight to his cock. What made him different from Lafayette to where John would refuse to fuck him? It’s not like Alex hadn’t made it obvious what he wanted.

“I wanna watch porn tonight. Something new, something we don’t have,” John decided when Lafayette left to go get dressed. “I’m in the mood to shower too.”

“Do those go hand in hand?” Alex asked.

John nodded. “Usually, yeah.” He leaned back. “Let’s go .”

Alex let out a sigh, leaning back. “I want some coffee, you wanna go out to get some or stay in and make it?”

John thought for a little bit. “Let me go get dressed, I’ll shower later or whatever.”

Lafayette came back into the kitchen, planting a quick kiss on John’s cheek before leaving without any further words. He gave a quick nod to Alex though as he stepped out of the door, closing with a bit of force that shook the table lightly.

John stood up, his robe doing him no favors in modesty. Alex had to jerk his head up to meet John’s eyes so as not to get caught on the wonderful sight of John’s soft brown cock, freshly milked and still reddish on the head. It looked like it tasted so good.

“You can look.” John smiled, parting his robe a bit more.

“Well, now you made it weird.” Alex stood up, going to the counter to fill a glass up with water. He didn’t expect John to come up behind him, grab his throat, and push him down on the counter, but when the man did, oh, the actions went straight to Alex’s cock.

“You like it, don’t you?” John muttered.

Alex closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of John’s free hand, roaming his ass.

“I think you like being manhandled. Can’t make up your mind, decide anything for yourself.” John’s thumb gently rubbed the skin of Alex’s neck. “Bet you got raped in the army.”

“Didn’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

Alex nodded.

“Are you lying?”

Alex didn’t know if he knew the answer to that. “No.”

John almost chuckled. “What? They leave you in your tent? Boxers at your ankles? Little bit of blood between your legs?” John leaned down, his hot breath fanning over Alex’s neck and cheek. “Or did they stop halfway through because they realized you weren’t putting up a struggle? Realized that you had so little personal choice that you just accepted you were being fucked. Rapists don’t like that. Don’t like it when you don’t squirm.” John tightened his hand around Alex’s neck. “They want you to be afraid of them. It’s not about the sex to them, it’s about the fear, the power. If you don’t fight back, sometimes they’ll just stop.”

“And how do you know this?” Alex’s eyes flitted to John’s face. “You ever rape anybody?”

“No.” John's voice was firm and mad like Alex had just implied he killed his own mother.

Alex let out a shaky sigh when he felt John step closer, felt their bodies touch. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Alex chuckled. “Then where’d all your knowledge about them come from?”

“Some people like to touch little boys and fuck them. Have you ever fucked a child, Alex? Much tighter, much more defenseless than an adult. Some people like to make them believe they’re loved, make them believe they’ve gotten something good going on. Real fucked up, ain’t it?”

“That what happened to you?”

“Never said that.”

“You implied it. Either you fucked a child, or you were the child being fucked.”

John let go of Alex’s throat, pulling him back up by the collar. “Do I look like the type of person to fuck a child?”

Alex paused for a moment, thinking. “No.”

“Then take your guess, Alex.” He leaned in and pressed a wet kiss to Alex’s neck, giving it a real hard nip before turning to get dressed.

Alex groaned at the slight bulge in his jeans, palming it once and then heading into the bathroom. Lafayette’s warning was a fair one, and Alex did have to light a match to make it tolerable in there. He leaned over the counter, studying his face.

Things had changed about him. His hair was longer, that was the first thing he noticed. His one clean-shaven goatee was now more faded into the stubble he never shaved. His eyes were bloodshot, with bags under them, and his neck was littered with hickeys at different stages of healing. Alex had changed in his short amount of time living at John’s. He wasn’t skinnier per se, but he was shaped differently. His body became less sculpted from clay and more carved from wood. His soft edges were not as soft as they had been. Alex didn’t look approachable anymore, he looked like someone who lived in a crappy apartment above a bar with a street pusher junky.

Alex pushed his hair out of his face and walked out of the bathroom. John was leaning up against the counter, dressed in his usual attire. Alex could see a hickey from Lafayette forming on John’s neck. It was a reddish-purple, and Alex swore he could see teeth marks. He smiled at Alex though, tilting his head a bit. It was charming, really, John’s mannerisms. He, by just looking at him, should’ve been gawky and awkward in his movements, but he was so smooth and comfortable with himself, that even the tilt of a head had so much tender emotion in it, and Alex found himself not liking the way that made him feel.

“Come on, coffee. I’ll shower when we get back. Save the fifty cents.” John put his arm around Alex’s shoulders as they walked to a diner nearby. “You know, some restaurants, they become such a hot spot for junkies that they get raided by the heat at random times, searching people for junk.”

“You ever been caught?”

“Oh, of course.” John laughed. “I’ve been to jail before, been forced to take the cure. First time I ended up in a holding cell, my sister had to come pick me up, and it was so funny. She was high off her ass on bennys, and I was still feeling the heroin high, so we had to walk home, and God, it was a fucking mess. We barely made it.” He let a soft smile come to his lips. “I really do love her.”

“She still alive?”

“Yeah, of course. Lives over in Queens or something. Sometimes she’ll come around.”

Alex hummed, and the two of them walked into the diner. It was an ashy diner, with no good food, and bad coffee, but it was cheap. Alex and John sat down in a booth. Alex expected John to sit across from him, but John squeezed in right next to Alex, putting his arm around the man and smiling. For such a fucked up person, John was never one to back down from physical affection.

“What can I get you two?” A bored waitress, who didn’t have half the energy to care about two queers sitting in the dinner, asked.

“Two coffees, two cheeseburgers.” John gave her a movie star smile.

“You know, we don’t like dine and dashers.”

John pulled out some cash and waved it around. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. And we tip too.” He winked at her, licking his lips a bit.

She rolled her eyes and left.

“Alex, you wanna know something?” John started.

Whenever John started off his speech with ‘you wanna know something?’ it was usually pretty good, so Alex nodded, leaning into John a bit.

“Everyone hates queers, but what’s gonna happen if I kiss you right now, huh? What, we get a pastor in our ear? You’re a Jew, I’m an addict. He’s not gonna get much.”

“Heard about a girl who got murdered.”

John swallowed. “Yeah, there’s always that.” He gave Alex a real serious look, and for a moment he almost looked sad. “Don’t you ever let anyone make you feel scared, Alex. If someone starts giving you trouble, you just gimme a name and a face. I’ll fuck ‘em up.”

“John,” Alex scoffed dismissively.

“I’m serious. No one better fuck with you. You’re ridin’ with me. People know my name around here. You got immunity with me. Just, if someone starts getting at you, tell me, I’ll make sure they don’t. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.”

John turned back to the table as the coffee was being set down. “Yeah, you don’t know that.” He took a sip and made a bitter face. “Fucking disgusting.”

“We still drink it.”

John smiled. “Yeah, we do.”

-

Alex never really thought he’d see John showered, but John stated he was specifically in the mood to clean himself off, so he did. It was strange to see John coming out of the shower, towel hanging low on his hips, hair wet and longer than its usual curly state, being pulled down by the weight of the water. He had hair on his chest, under his arms, trailing down to his cock. Alex could see the tattoo on his back in full now. It was the Devil’s face, big and detailed, and under it, the words ‘Audaces Fortuna Iuvat.’ Alex didn’t know what that meant, but he found himself dragging his fingers across the skin.

“You like it?” John asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Suits you.” Alex wrapped his arms around John’s torso, planting a soft kiss on his shoulder. His hand trailed down to where John tucked the corner of the towel in so to keep the garment up, and then began to untuck it.

John laughed, finding Alex’s hand and holding onto his wrist. “You sure you wanna go there?”

“You’re showered. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted your dick clean.”

John tilted his head back, laughing. “Yeah, whatever. Come on, wanna get there before all the good flicks are gone.” John walked away, taking the towel off his waist and putting it around his neck.

Alex was quick to admire John’s ass for a second.

When John came out of the room, he was dressed, with his wet hair tied back with a bandana. He looked a bit different, and Alex began to wonder how long it had really been since John showered. How long had he been sitting in his own filth? How long had Alex been licking the filth right off that six-inch cock?

John pushed Alex up against the kitchen counter and pressed his lips to his. Alex let out a surprised gasp but kissed back. John’s hands were roaming everywhere, grabbing Alex in places that sent waves of heat through his body. John began to grind up against Alex, still palming him through his jeans, still kissing him. Alex was surprised when it took only a minute for John to gasp and shake against Alex, groaning loudly.

“You really done that quick?” Alex muttered, looking at John.

“I’m high.”

Alex looked at John’s pinpoint pupils and noticed how he kept swallowing back spit and licking his lips. “Fair enough.”

John sunk to his knees and got to work on Alex, finishing him off quickly before deciding it was time to go. They had to cross over into Brooklyn to get where they needed, and that seemed to put John on edge. Alex probably wouldn’t have noticed John was on edge, but the switchblade that John kept flipping open and shut made it pretty obvious that he wasn’t fucking around. Alex found himself putting a hand on John’s thigh, trying to offer some kind of comfort. John seemed to barely notice. He did look really out of it. But he smelt nice, that was something.

When they got to the sex shop in Brooklyn, John was quick to go inside, not even glancing at all the torture devices, going straight to the VHS section. He seemed to be on a mission, and he knew exactly what he was looking for. Or he looked like he did.

“Alright,” John muttered. “What’re we thinking, Alex? Three ways? Gay porn? Lesbians? Orgys? I’m thinking Asian. I like those Asian chicks.”

“Eliza’s Asian.”

“It’s one of the reasons we fuck.” John snickered and looked along the racks. The man at the desk was giving them an odd look.

“I’m fine with whatever,” Alex stated.

“Alright, how about…” John picked up a box. “Asian ebony BBC threeway, juicy tits, and loud orgasms.” John hummed. “Almost an hour long.”

Alex peered at the box from John’s shoulder, humming. “Yeah, sure, alright.”

John looked around the shop for a moment, thinking. “We could get some handcuffs while we’re here.”

Alex, for some reason, though back to Eliza, saying John would probably cuff him to a radiator and cut off his legs, pull out his teeth, film it and sell it. The fear and emotion Alex was feeling became very obvious when he said, “No.”

John gave Alex a weird look. “Alright, calm down. It was just a suggestion.”

“We don’t even fuck, anyway,” Alex pointed out.

“You make a good point.” John pulled Alex around the sex shop. “What about a dildo? You want a dildo?”

“John!” Alex’s face heated up. John’s voice was loud enough for Alex to be sure that the man at the counter heard.

John burst out laughing and pushed Alex into the shelves, kissing up to his neck. Alex cringed around from the rubbery dildos, shaking from the impact of Alex’s body.

“Come on,” Alex begged. “Let’s get outta here.”

“You sure you don’t want anything?” John snickered, pulling Alex into his arms. “No sexy leather thong? No dolls? Something fake to jizz into at night?”

“John,” Alex groaned. “Just wanna get back to our place.”

John only smiled, pressing another kiss to Alex’s neck before leaving him in the aisle to go pay for the film. Alex had to take a moment to compose himself, then met John by the door. John had his switchblade out again, flipping it open and shut. With his other arm, he hugged Alex’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

“Never liked Brooklyn,” he admitted.

Alex looked over at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” John shook his head. “Got bad vibes. If I die, it’s probably gonna be in Brooklyn.”

“If you die,” Alex mocked.

“Listen, people act like immortality gon’ be achieved by perfect health. Fuck that, the closest we get to God is when we inject a shit ton of heroin. Who says the same can’t keep us going a little longer?”

Alex shrugged. “You might be right.”

John nodded. “I wouldn’t want to live forever though.”

“No?”

John shook his head. “I’d miss too many people. Immortality seems like a fucking joke. I don’t wanna live forever. I don’t plan on living longer than the next ten years.”

Alex frowned a bit. “You don’t?”

John shook his head. “Logically, I can’t.”

“Thought heroin made you live forever.”

John gave Alex a weird look. “What the fuck? You think anything I say is even remotely correct? Alex, shit just comes out of my mouth. It’s not my job to make sure you know what I take seriously and what I don’t take seriously.”

Alex chuckled as they got to the subway. “You’re an anomaly, John Laurens.”

John smiled his Cheshire the cat smile, leaning up against Alex. “I know, darling.”

The rest of the night was spent drinking beer and watching porn on the couch. It wasn’t a bad night, and they were both tired, so the porn was more entertainment than encouragement to pleasure. John decided that this was his new favorite and then proceeded to get out some heroin. Alex knocked John in the shoulder a bit, telling him goodnight, and then went to bed and fell asleep. It was an easy night, for both of them. Not much else was needed because not much else was had.


	13. Ziggy Stardust

“You know we’re not boyfriends or any of that shit, right?” John started, sitting down at the kitchen table.

Alex looked at the clock on the wall, then back at John. It was three am, they had just woken up for the day. Well, Alex had. He was pretty sure John hadn’t slept. John didn’t really seem to sleep unless he was high or shooting up. Alex looked back to John, nodded, and then sipped his coffee.

“Yeah, we’re not.”

“I know that, John. Believe me, you’re not exactly my taste in men.”

John looked mildly offended. “The fuck does that mean?”

Alex shrugged, sipping his coffee again. “Look, if I spend the rest of my life with you, lush working and getting high, that’s fine. But you’re not relationship material John. Hell, you’re barely friendship material.” He chuckled a bit. “It’s not like I picture myself walking down the aisle towards you. You’re a cool dude to hang out with, don’t get me wrong, but you’re not really…” Alex paused, looking for the right words. “You’re not really someone I would seek out if I was looking for a relationship.”

John was about to say something, to jump to the defense of himself, but Alex cut him off.

“That shouldn’t matter, right? It’s not like you care. We’re not dating, so the fact that you’re not my type, it shouldn’t bother you, right John?”

John swallowed hard and nodded, then went and poured himself some coffee. “Never had someone put it so bluntly.”

“Well,” Alex smiled. “You can take criticism, can’t you?”

John nodded.

“Good.” Alex opened up his book and proceeded to spend the rest of their sort of breakfast not looking at or acknowledging John. What John said, it truly didn’t bother him. Alex was being honest when he said that John wasn’t his type of man, and Alex was okay with the fact that they weren’t in any type of relationship. But Alex had to admit, the look of utter shock on John’s face as Alex proceeded to explain why he wouldn’t, for any reason, want a relationship with him, was satisfying. Alex wasn’t into John, but he didn’t want John thinking Alex was a sidekick. He had his own life, outside of John.

Around four am, John stood up from the kitchen table and went to go get dressed. Alex was already dressed and trying to figure out what he wanted to do that day. Probably see Eliza, blow the last of his cash on her. He had been almost trying to find a job lately. He was getting bored with doing nothing. John had his drug deal, and Alex didn’t help out with that enough to feel like he had a gig going on.

Alex picked up John’s landline, flipping through their address book until he found Eliza’s name. He dialed her number and waited for her to pick up, sighing a bit. John had come back into the room and was sitting at the kitchen table again, with powdered milk and pure heroin laid out in front of him. He was measuring, and Alex knew he was gonna cut the majority of it, double the size of the batch to make the money they needed.

“Who the fuck is calling this early?” Someone’s haggard voice growled into the phone.

“Oh, hey, I’m looking for Eliza,” Alex started.

They sighed, then called out for Eliza. A few seconds later, that soft voice rang over the phone. Eliza had a very specific voice, and Alex did really like it.

“Hey,” she sighed. “It’s early.”

“I know that.”

She paused, then chuckled. “Hey, Alex. Why you calling?”

“Just looking for a bit of company today. Maybe lunch and dessert afterward, hm?” Alex leaned against the wall, smiling and twirling the cord in his fingers.

“What? John not good enough for you?” Eliza teased.

At the sound of his name, John looked up, creasing his brows.

“Whatever,” Alex dismissed. He didn’t know what kind of Hell would be brought down upon him if he said yes to that question. “Come on, I could get you a real nice meal. Scratch each other’s backs, hm?”

“I’m not just gonna eat and fuck, you got anything else you need to do?”

“Eh, I’ve been looking for jobs lately, and-”

“Sweet, let’s browse Greenwich for some work you’re skilled enough to do. Might invite Laf, that okay? He’s been bugging me to hang out.”

“Does that mean I gotta share you?” Alex complained, though it was light and joking, and he wouldn’t actually mind it.

“Maybe, Hamilton.” She laughed a bit. “Alright, so lunch, job search, and a blowjob. I can do that. What time and where?”

“Uh, let’s meet at spring street station in lower Manhattan, yeah? Say…” Alex glanced at the clock on the wall. “How about eleven? I don’t have anything else to do today though, so any time works for me.”

“No, no, eleven is good.” Eliza chuckled. “Bring condoms, yeah?”

“Of course, gorgeous.” Alex let out a small sigh. “Alright, see you then.”

“See you then, handsome.”

Alex hung up and looked to John, who was currently heating up most of the pure heroin, watching it melt. Alex opened a window before standing next to John, looking over into the pan and humming. It was a metal pan, no coating so when John scraped it, nothing would get stuck.

“Have you ever killed someone with what you used to cut?” Alex asked.

John shrugged. “I’ve had people never come back. I make it my business not to know what happened to them.”

Alex nodded.

“Mix a cup of powdered milk and a cup of powdered sugar together,” John requested. Alex complied. He had gotten pretty good at this, seeing as this is what they did together every few weeks or so. The first time Alex did it, he poured the milk and sugar in too fast, and the heroin splashed up and burnt his arm, sizzling on his skin. Since it was both hot, and acidic, John was quick to dump baking soda on the wound, which he kept handy in case he ran out of milk and sugar, or in case he burnt himself. This neutralized the burn. John then proceeded to hold Alex’s arm under cold water until Alex said it was okay.

The burn stayed there for a while, and Alex picked scab and heroin off of his arm. The scar was tight and pink, and sometimes, John would take Alex’s arm and rub his thumb over the scar. There was no apparent reason for doing this, but John seemed to like the way it looked.

“Alright, easy now,” John mumbled as Alex carefully sprinkled in the milk and sugar.

The panful of heroin grew almost twice it’s volume when everything was added in. John kept adding water so it all would mix. At the end, he crushed up a few painkillers and sprinkled those in as well, before scraping the goopy substance into a baking pan and putting it in the oven to dry it out. This would take an hour. In John’s opinion, an hour was always the right amount to bake heroin.

“So, a job?”

Alex shrugged. “I’ve been bored lately. Only so many books you can read.”

John nodded. “Dishwashing?”

“Yup. Might try to go just part-time though.” Alex shrugged. “I got other things I wanna do.”

John hummed. “I don’t think I’ve had a real job in years.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah, I figured.” He found himself touching the heroin burn on his arm, thinking. “You ever think we’re gonna get caught? Or just you?”

John shook his head. “No. I’m too smart to get caught.”

“Ah, yeah.” Alex stood up and stretched. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Need some company?”

“As if you would actually, willingly shower.” Alex rolled his eyes. “No, and besides, I’m gonna be quick. We’re almost out of powdered milk and sugar, so I’m gonna go get some of that at the corner store. Anything else?”

“Gimme a candy bar.”

“Three Musketeers?”

John smiled, doing finger guns. “You know it, gorgeous.”

Alex rolled his eyes, smiling as he walked into the bathroom. In the army, he had been thicker with muscle. He had a strong build, one of an ox. Now though, he was skinnier. His ribs were showing, his v line was more prominent, and his shoulders no longer filled out his tee shirts. He had lost weight, but the hard cut muscle he had gotten in the army still remained.

Alex got in the shower and washed off, ignoring the slight brown ting the water had, and the smell that was a bit weird. Sometimes, the water in New York was just like that. So he didn’t bother the guy who owned the building with it.

When Alex was clean, he walked back into the kitchen, towel around his waist. His hair, which was now past his ears, dripped water down his back. John was leaning against the counter, waiting for the heroin to be done. Judging by the now-empty prescription bottle John had used to even out the heroin, he was high.

“Hey, you doing alright?”

“Man, you ever think about horses?” John laughed. “Horses, man. They’re just these fuckin’... big ass animals. Huge fuckin’... heads. Fuckin’ crazy-ass animals, am I right?”

Alex nodded, going into the living room to get change from between the cushions. He found a few dollars, as well as a used syringe that he just tossed onto the coffee table. It was just enough to get what he needed, and a pack of Reds, so he shoved it in his pocket and left, leaving John sitting at the table and laughing at a fork.

Alex went to the corner store, walking in and looking around. He had found another dollar on the street, and decided to get a drink as well. He stared into the drink fridge with an empty look, thinking. His head turned when the bell rang, and he jumped when he saw two police in uniform. Alex stayed at the drink fridge, trying to remember how he acts when he’s not scared out of his wits. Ever since he had started helping John with his drug deals, cops had become so much more terrifying to him.

Copper jitters, as John had called it. He said they went away after a while, but it hadn’t been a while for Alex. So he was scared. Scared because what if something tipped the cops off? The smell that lingered on him and his clothes from John’s drug-filled apartment. Heroin, when cooking, is pungent.

Alex wasn’t even thinking about his drink, he wasn’t even paying attention, so when one of the cops said ‘excuse me’ as he attempted to get by to get a coke, Alex jumped.

“Hey, easy there, cowboy,” the cop laughed. “Still waking up?”

Alex blinked for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Woke up not too long ago, just trying to decide what to get.”

The cop chuckled. “Well, good luck.”

He left and Alex let out the breath he was holding. He decided to grab a Yoo-Hoo and then go and grab the powdered milk and sugar. He knew enough to not purchase that while the cops were still there, looked too suspicious. They left eventually, and Alex placed the two items on the counter, and then grabbed a pack of reds and put them up there too.

“Baking?” The man at the counter knew exactly what Alex was buying these things for.

Alex nodded. “Yeah, it’s my mother’s birthday.”

“Well, I bet it’ll be a blast.” The counterman bagged up the groceries and handed them to Alex. Outside of the corner shop, Alex lit up a cigarette and smoked it to calm himself down. He walked quickly back to John’s place, smoking the cigarette like it was his life source. When he got back to the house, it was about six. John was sitting at the kitchen table, grinding up the thick chalky substance into powder. This would take a while, so Alex went to the couch and laid down, smoking the cigarette and turning on Halloween. When John finished grinding up the powder, he came into the living room with his pan of heroin, and a lot of little plastic baggies, as well as a scale. He watched the movie with Alex while he put a gram in each bag. Thirty dollars per gram. John stopped doing caps recently, got sick of having to be really careful. His hands shook too much and he ended up losing a lot of it on the carpet.

“I don’t get how you like horror movies,” John stated.

“Just do.” Alex shrugged. “Trauma or something.”

“You think you would’ve survived if you were born in a camp?” John asked.

“No babies were born in the camps, John.”

“Why not? Thought all the women got raped or something?”

Alex swallowed hard. “They couldn’t have gotten pregnant. All of them were starving. My mother didn’t get her first period until she was nineteen.”

John nodded, thinking. “If I was Hitler, I just wouldn’t have done that.”

“Yes, you would have, because you would’ve been Hitler.” Alex didn’t mind most of the things John said, but sometimes John took the holocaust just a bit too lightly for Alex’s taste. “Hitler was one of the worst people in the world.”

“You think?”

“I don’t think you understand how much extended family I would have had if he had never done what he did.” Alex was angry. “I mean, fuck my mom, but God, you think she would've been so fucking crazy if she had grown up in a life where she wasn’t raped and starved? Where she didn’t watch her sister get mutilated and sodomized with knives? Where she didn’t listen to her mother scream as she was gassed?” Alex let out a breath of air from his nose. “You don’t really get all the shit that went on in those camps, and maybe I envy you for that, but it means you ain’t got no right to ever talk about that shit like you have any idea what you’re talking about.”

John was quiet. “Sorry.”

“Yeah.” Alex shook his head. “I mean, John, you been through shit I don’t know the first thing about, and I ain’t gonna act like I’m an expert on that either. So, shut up about the camps. I don’t like thinking about them, and I’m not gonna give you fucking… torture porn or whatever.”

John nodded.

Alex stood up, putting on his shoes. “I’m gonna go meet Eliza.”

“Oh, come on, Alex, I didn’t mean it,” John groaned.

“Oh, fuck off. You’re not my boyfriend, you don’t have to act like you give a shit about my feelings.” Alex rolled his eyes.

John stood up and grabbed Alex’s arm. “Hey, don’t be like that.”

“Fuck off.”

“Alex-”

“I said fuck off.” Alex shook his head. “It’s whatever dude, just… leave it alone.”

John ran his thumb over the burn on Alex’s arm. “When are you gonna be back?”

“Whenever.”

“Come on, I’m gonna worry. Please.” John gave Alex a look.

Alex shook his head. “I dunno, four maybe?”

“Alright.” John let go. “Have fun.”

Alex left without saying goodbye. He had killed time, but not a lot, so he found himself smoking almost the entire pack of reds before Eliza showed up. She was wearing a blazer that was far too big for her with a belt around it. Under the large blazer was a colorful sports bra and a pair of tight leather pants. She was drawing unapproving looks from the people she passed but didn’t even seem to notice.

“Damn,” Alex mumbled, looking her up and down.

She sat on the bench next to him, taking off her sunglasses. “Hello to you too.”

“How you been?” Alex asked, putting his arm around her as they waited for Lafayette.

Eliza shrugged, chuckling. “Not too bad, really. I had some lady tell me I should put on a shirt in the subway. That was funny.”

“Why do people care if you have your tits out?” Alex scoffed.

“Yeah, right? Not like I have any anyway.” Eliza giggled, and Alex took the moment to look at her chest. She was right, she didn’t really have big tits. Alex never really noticed before, but she had a very pear-shaped body, wide hips and slim shoulders.

“Eh, I’m not a tit person anyway.”

“Good.” Eliza looked at Alex. “How’s not falling in love with John going?”

“Pretty easy, actually.” Alex chuckled. “He really is a dick sometimes, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he’s our friend, so we gotta give him a little sugar, don’t we?” Eliza gave Alex a suggestive look.

“Who we giving sugar?” Lafayette smiled, sitting on the other side of Alex.

“John,” Eliza answered.

“Ah, that bastard.” Lafayette smiled wistfully. “How’s life living with him, Alex?”

“A dream,” Alex replied sarcastically.

Lafayette tilted his head back, laughing. “Well, what did you expect? You moved in with a gross sweaty junky who eats nothing but old pizza and skunked beer.”

Alex chuckled.

“Come on, I’m starved.” Lafayette stood up, smiling. He had a weird posture, something Alex couldn’t help but notice. He walked with his hips forward, back rounded. He walked like he was bigger than he was. And he wasn’t a small person by any means. At a minimum of least six foot two, his yellow and red flannel pants lacked the ability to cover his ankles, and his shirt was tight against his chest, not reaching his hips and exposing a bit of stomach when he walked. Alex admired Lafayette’s sense of fashion. It was queer. Lafayette looked queer. Maybe it was the earring, maybe it was the mannerisms, but he looked queer.

Alex wished he looked queer. But looking queer required color, and he liked his whole white tee shirt black jeans look. He had always admired the way James Dean dressed. As a kid, Alex would get any magazine with pictures of James Dean, cut them out and hang them up around his room. He wanted to be James Dean. Something about the sweet boy-next-door all American sweetheart, dirty blond nice build, rosy cheeks. Alex wanted his life. He wanted an Audrey Hepburn and his muscle car.

“I’m thinking a shitty diner,” Lafayette started, looking at Alex and Eliza. “Something with cigarette ash in the soup, hm?”

“How ‘bout there?” Eliza asked, pointing to a diner across the street and a bit up.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Alex nodded.

The three crossed the street, Lafayette flipping off a honking taxi cab and then made it into the dinner. They all squeezed into a semi-circle booth, one that was only made for two people, and got comfortable. Lafayette’s legs were basically over Alex’s, and Alex’s arms were around both Lafayette and Eliza since he didn’t really have anywhere else to put them, but no one minded.

A waitress brought them coffee and menus, and Lafayette flipped his open in an elegant manner. Every time the man did something, Alex found he was a bit more entranced with him. Lafayette was so… unafraid. If Alex saw Lafayette walking down the street as a kid, he might’ve jeered some slur at Lafayette, snickering. Looking at him now though, all Alex had for him was respect.

“I’m gonna get the grits,” Lafayette decided. “With cheese.”

“Short stack,” Alex decided.

Lafayette gave Alex a sweet smile. “You are just the boy next door, aren’t you?”

Alex shrugged.

“No, it’s cute.” Lafayette’s hand went to Alex’s arm. “You’re like… the kind of guy in the movies that everyone is in love with.”

“I don’t know about that,” Alex laughed. Lafayette’s look was making him anxious and flustered, and it made him feel a little naked.

“Oh, you really are. Dressed like a Hollywood movie star, hair a bit too long. It’s very handsome.”

Alex touched his hair. “Does it look good long?”

Lafayette nodded. “It does.”

“When you two are done fagging out, maybe we should have a conversation as a group?” Eliza snorted.

“No, look,” Lafayette played with Alex’s hair a bit. “Doesn’t he look like someone your parents would be okay with you dating?”

“He looks like someone my dad would tell to get a haircut.”

Alex smiled. “I actually like my long hair. Makes me feel like I’m actually out of the army.”

“Good.” Eliza ruffled the choppy waves as the waitress came back. They all ordered, Lafayette throwing out a flirty comment to the woman. Alex got the idea that Lafayette was the type of person to flirt with everyone.

The lunch went nicely, and Eliza ended up sucking off both Laf and Alex in a back alley. It was nice, really, and Alex liked the way Lafayette kept his arm around him the whole time, kissing up and down his neck, moaning into his skin. Lafayette was a lot different than John in the fact that he was much more gentle with Alex, much more loving. Alex liked that.

When he got home, John wasn’t there. The house was empty. Alex didn’t pay it any mind, just turned on the TV and got out some beer. The heroin pan was in the sink, as well as the baking sheet and spatula. Alex got to work cleaning them off. When they were all clean, Alex put them away, and then wiped stray cocaine off the table. Alex sometimes wondered just how many drugs John did when he wasn’t looking.

He began to brew some coffee and sat down at the table, reading his book. It was about seven when the phone began to ring. Alex groaned, getting up and pulling it off its receiver. “Laurens residence, Alex speaking.”

“Hiya, gorgeous.” John’s voice was slick and gross, coming through the receiver. He sounded really high.

“You need someone to pick you up and take you to the hospital?” Alex mused.

“No.” John laughed. “I’m glad you know me enough to know that’s usually what I need, though.”

“What do you need?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice.”

Alex smiled. “Oh yeah?”

John hummed. “You know, I’m not a bad person.”

Alex pressed his lips together, thinking. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” John took a shaky breath. “I do bad things, I know that, Alex. But I’m not, I don’t do bad things to people.”

Alex thought about the guy John headbutted for no reason. He decided he shouldn’t argue with this one though. “I know.”

“You know, there’s a reason I don’t have a lot of sex. A real reason. Not just some bullshit childhood sexual abuse.”

Alex hummed.

“If I tell you, you should know, I’m not gonna be home for a few days.”

“That’s alright.”

John swallowed on the other end of the line. “You know how you… how you get drunk in high school?”

“I do.”

“Well, I was at a party, and I uh, I got really drunk. Blackout drunk. I don’t know what happened that night, which is really terrifying. Uh, I woke up in bed with a girl, and we smoked a cigarette together, and then I left. I mean, we were both hungover. We had both been drinking a lot. So uh, I uh, I went to classes the next day, and one of her friends came up and slapped me. I don’t like hitting women, but I mean, I almost did, because I didn’t know what the fuck was going on.”

“Why’d she do that?” Alex asked.

John was quiet. “I just… I didn’t know what happened that night. I don’t, I never wanted to…” John took a breath. “The girl told her friends I raped her.”

Alex was quiet. “Did you?”

“I don’t know.” John shook his head. “That’s the worst part. I don’t even know if I did or not, I don’t remember even having sex with her. I try to… I try to rationalize it because I mean, the next morning, we woke up, smoked together, had a bit of conversation, and then I left. I don’t think I raped her, but I just… I don’t know.” John shook his head. “I didn’t… I don’t want to rape people, Alex. I don’t get those urges. But, maybe I did that night. I don’t know. I don’t remember what I did.”

Alex didn’t talk. He didn’t really know how to respond.

“I tried to talk to her, I tried to apologize, say something. She just, she wouldn’t talk to me.” John shook his head. “Am I a bad person, Alex?”

Alex thought for a little bit. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“John, to be honest, it sounds like she’s the only one who knows what happened that night. Maybe she’s lying, maybe she’s not. I don’t know.”

John was quiet.

“So that’s why you don’t have a lot of sex?”

“I’m scared of it happening again.” John took a deep breath.

Alex nodded, thinking. “Did you ever manage to talk to her?”

“No.” John laughed. “She was the prettiest girl in school too, everyone loved her. I just dropped out because of that. Couldn’t stand seeing her every day. Made me feel so sick, so guilty. I had a friend who said she was just trying to save face after sleeping with someone like me, but I had another friend say that I was fucked up for what I did.”

“I don’t think it’s really fair to make a decision.”

John was quiet. “I’ve gotta… I’m gonna go.”

“You’ll be back in a few days?”

“Uh-huh, gonna go stay at my sister’s.”

Alex hummed. “Alright. See you soon.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”


	14. Summertime

It took a week for John to come back, and when he did, he looked like he hadn’t eaten since he left. Alex didn’t know he could get skinnier, John was already skinny, but when the man pulled off his shirt and laid down on the couch, Alex could’ve sworn he had never looked more like a skeleton. His eyes were more sunken in, his cheekbones were like knives, his lips were chapped and his hands were pale and bruised.

“You alright?” Alex asked.

“I gotta get clean,” John mumbled, rubbing his face. “I gotta do it, Alex.”

John had bruises at different stages of healing in the places he shot up. The crook of his elbow was scabbed and bruised to a point where Alex wondered if it would ever heal. He could almost see John in some run-down squatter house, shooting up and letting his eyes roll back in his head.

“You need something?” Alex asked.

“You think you can run down to the bodega and get me an egg sandwich?” John pulled out a couple of dollars from his pocket. “I’m fuckin’ starved.”

“You look it.” Alex picked up the cash and stared at John’s ribs for a moment. “Lafayette is coming over later.”

“Why?” John mumbled.

“Wanted some company. Pick the bedroom or the couch, we’ll have the other.”

John chuckled. “You faggin’ each other?”

“Fuck it matters,” Alex replied, leaving the apartment. He went down to the bodega and got two egg sandwiches, then went back to the apartment. It was a nice day out, the sky was clear, and the new summer wasn’t hot enough to get uncomfortable, but wasn’t cold enough to require extra layers. Alex always liked that transition period between spring and summer in New York. The streets didn’t stink of shit, but you could touch the handrails going into the subway without getting your skin freeze-dried and stuck there.

John smiled sleepily at the egg sandwich, taking it and instantly digging in. Alex sat at the kitchen table, biting his and drinking his coffee. The phone rang and John called out a ‘not it!’ so Alex got up and picked it up. He was expecting someone to be calling and asking for drugs. They had been doing that all week, and it had been Alex’s job to serve them.

“Laurens resident, Alex speaking.”

“Hello, Alexander.”

Alex let a soft smile befall his lips. “Hey, Laf.”

“Heard Johnny boy was back in town.”

“Already? He just got here.”

“Yeah, word travels fast when he’s the only pusher on the lower east side.” Lafayette laughed, and Alex could almost see him, head tilted back, throat so delicately laced with hickys that he had gotten over the past few weeks.

“Yeah, he’s on the couch, scarfing some food.”

“You still need company?”

Alex looked to John, who had his hand down his jeans while holding the sandwich in his mouth. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well, I have good news, sugar.” Lafayette moved around a bit on the other line. “My roommate went to go fuck his old lady, and I have the house to myself. If you want a little more privacy than John would offer, you could always come over.”

Alex hated how Lafayette could talk in a tone that screamed sex, and Alex would respond in a tone that screamed ‘hi my name is Bill and I can do your taxes for you.’ Regardless though, Lafayette’s offer was far too good to turn down. “Yeah, sure, what’s your address?”

“Apartment building on the corner of Elizabeth and east Houston. I’ll meet you in the lobby, yeah?”

“Sure, I’ll be there in an hour, gotta clean up and make sure Junky doesn’t drown in his own sick.”

“Heard that!” John called out.

Alex laughed.

“Alright, sugar, see you soon.”

Alex put the phone back on the handset and walked into the living room. John was jerking it like his life depended on it, egg sandwich still in his mouth. Alex rolled his eyes, sitting on the floor next to John. “Hey.”

John stopped jerking off and took the egg sandwich out of his mouth, looking at Alex. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“I’m glad you’re back.”

“Are you?” John smirked a bit.

“Yeah.” Alex brushed a bit of hair from John’s face. “I missed having you around. Believe it or not, you can be a pretty cool person to live with every now and then.”

John laughed. “Don’t be saying things you don’t mean, Hamilton.”

“I’m not.”

John smiled, setting down his egg sandwich and putting his hand on Alex’s cheek. “Yeah, I missed you too. Got to see my sister though.”

“How was that?”

“Good. She’s still a fucking junky, but so am I. I think you would like her.”

“Do you?”

John shook his head. “No, not at all, actually.”

Alex laughed, then leaned in and planted a kiss on John’s mouth. “Hey, you don’t go running off like that again, okay? Ain’t nothing you can say that’s gonna make me give you dirty looks, John. Maybe you piss me off, but if I really didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be living here.”

“No?”

Alex shook his head. “And if you do run off, give me a call at least once a day. Jesus fuck. I was starting to get worried you were foaming at the mouth on an old mattress in Brownsville or something.”

John smiled. “Aw, you was worried about me.”

“Yeah, I was.” Alex took John’s hands, tracing over the knuckles. “What? You didn’t eat while you were gone?”

“No, not really.” John rolled on his side, taking his hand out of his pants and sighing. “Gonna get clean, you know. Gonna go on the cure.”

“For good?”

“Nah, just for a bit.” John let his eyes droop down a bit, looking at Alex. “You know, you do look really nice with your hair growing out.”

Alex’s heart fluttered.

“I wish things had been different for you growing up.” John was tired. “I wish you had lived a childhood that made you smile. Wish you had fallen in love with a pretty girl in high school, had her pump out a few kids. Wish you lived a life like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” John cracked open an eye. “You’d be happy like that.”

“I’m happy like this.”

“No, you’re not.” John closed his eyes again. “No one’s happy like this, Alex.”

Alex was quiet. He stood up, kissed John on the forehead, and then went into the bathroom to douche. He didn’t exactly like douching, but it was better than seeing literal shit on the condom. John didn’t seem to care if Alex douched or not, but to Alex, it was still gross when John had to wipe his hand off on the sheets while they fooled around. Alex had never really had a formal sex education, most of it was spent in the back sleeping, but he was pretty sure douching was the closest he was ever going to come to getting his period.

When he finished cleaning up, John was snoring on the couch. Alex put the man’s egg sandwich on the table and turned out the lights, then left. As he walked to Lafayette’s, he tied up his hair and tucked in his shirt. His jeans were dirty, and he looked a bit haggard, but that was alright.

When he got to the lobby, Lafayette was sprawled out on one of the water-stained couches, wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt that was barely buttoned enough to be decent and a pair of army pants and flip flops. He looked like a fashion disaster but somehow made it sexy.

He smiled when he saw Alex, standing up. “Hey, you.”

Alex chuckled. “What are you wearing?”

Lafayette held out his arms. “It’s called fashion, deary. Look it up. And besides, I’m a fag in the eighties, what else is there for me to do besides dress poorly and smoke?”

“I never said you looked bad,” Alex pointed out.

Lafayette smiled. “Come on now. I’ll make tea.”

Alex didn’t know what Lafayette was talking about. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The two of them walked up to Lafayette’s apartment, and Alex could barely contain his look of bewilderment. Lafayette’s apartment looked like a different person picked out each thing. A mix of brightly colored chrome kitchenware, a floral couch next to a leather armchair. A fluffy bright pink rug, mahogany armoire, a deco kitchen table.

“Your life is everything I want,” Alex mumbled, looking around.

Lafayette laughed as he put a tea kettle on the stove. “You flatter me. Come, sit down.”

Alex sat at the table. “How do you look so queer?”

“I commit sodomy, why?” Lafayette muttered, turning around and looking at Alex.

“No, like, you just, you dress queer, you look queer, how do you do it?”

“Queer isn’t an outfit, it’s an attitude.” Lafayette looked around his apartment. “You can dress however you want, but you’re either gonna look crazy or high if you don’t have the right attitude. Alex, you grew up with your straight little friends, drooling over playboy mags. You were raised straight. Of course you’re going to act straight, look straight.”

“Were you not raised straight?”

Lafayette shook his head. “My father was never afraid to bring his boyfriends around. And besides.” Lafayette waved his hand. “Everyone in France is gay after six.”

“You immigrated from France, right?”

Lafayette nodded. “My father was killed in the demonstrations of sixty-eight, they were part of a more radical group of revolutionaries.” He smiled slyly. “So I was put on a boat to America, where I stayed with my mother’s sister. She was a lesbian, who had more girlfriends than she had hairs on her legs.”

Alex laughed. “What happened to your mom?”

Lafayette paused, thinking. “Alexander, some men, are not born as men. Some men are… women by law. That does not make them any less men in my eyes.”

“Transsexuals?” Alex started.

Lafayette nodded. “My father was the man who birthed me, and for that, I will always love him.”

Alex nodded. “That’s… interesting. I’ve never met a transsexual in real life.”

“Well, for the record.” Lafayette began getting out some tea. “They usually don’t like being called transsexuals as a noun. So maybe it’s best you haven’t.”

Alex let out a nervous chuckle. “What should I call them?”

Lafayette thought. “Maybe their name?”

Alex nodded, realizing that he was being really stupid. “Sorry, I don’t really… I’ve just been exposed to very little of the queer world, you know? I mean, growing up with a Jewish mother, we didn’t exactly talk about my feelings that often.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Lafayette set down a cup of tea in front of Alex and then sat back down. “How’s John? He never looks too good after his little vacations.”

“He looks like he hasn’t eaten in a week, and I don’t think he’ll ever be able to find a vein to shoot up in again.” Alex laughed. “But like, he’s alive, and that’s good.”

Lafayette took Alex’s hand and pulled his arm forward, running his fingers over the crook. “Huh, you look like you’ve stayed out of the habit.”

“Every now and then,” Alex shrugged.

“Every now and then isn’t a habit.” Lafayette took a sip of his tea. “I used to be a big junky, used to fuck myself up every night. It was bad.” He looked at Alex. “Got arrested, got the cure. Decided it wasn't worth going back. Don’t know how John hasn’t gotten thrown in the slammer for good. It ain’t like he never been arrested before.”

Alex chuckled.

“He’s smart about all this though. Been dealing since he was just a kid. Knows how to get away from the heat.”

Alex leaned back. “He’s annoying as shit.”

“What’s new?” Lafayette stood up, sighing. “Alright, you wanna fuck?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Alex had never liked intense sex. He had never liked the idea of sex being sports adjacent. He liked casual riding, he liked just being comfortable. He didn’t want to be fucked into the mattress or tied up and gagged. He just wanted to be with someone.

When they finished, Lafayette gave Alex a cigarette, and they both laid in bed, smoking. The window was cracked, so Alex could hear the city hustling and bustling below them. It was nice, even with the afternoon heat creating a layer of sweat over their bodies. Lafayette’s hand rested on Alex’s thigh, stroking it gently.

“You know,” he started, looking at Alex with the cigarette dangling between his lips. “If things with John and like, living with him, if they didn’t work out, you could always come stay with me if you wanted.”

“You don’t want me crashing on your couch,” Alex laughed.

“Who says you’d be on my couch?” Lafayette let out a sigh. “Just, if things ever go south, or you decide you don’t want the life of a drug lord’s receptionist anymore, you can always come stay with me.”

Alex took a long hit from his cigarette, thinking. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind, just in case, you know.”

Lafayette gave a small smile. “Good. Do you wanna eat dinner here? My roommate will be back, but we can just take over the living room or something.”

“Nah, it’s alright.” Alex sat up, scratching the center of his chest. “I should probably get going anyway. Make sure John gets some food in him, make sure he doesn’t die or something.”

Lafayette nodded, sighing. “I just wanna let you know something.”

“Yeah?”

“If John gets hurt, or if he, God forbid, dies, that ain’t gonna be your fault. It’s hard not to feel a bit responsible for John’s well-being, seeing as he acts like he’s seventeen, and like his actions have no consequences, but he’s not seventeen. He’s an adult. He lives a life that’ll take him a lot sooner than us, and that’ll be real sad, when that day comes. But it’s not our job to try and delay it.” He paused, thinking. “What I’m trying to say is, don’t turn yourself into a crutch for John to lean on. He doesn’t need a crutch.”

Alex nodded, putting on his shirt. “I know.”

“Good.” Lafayette got out of bed and put on a robe. “You come around any time, alright? Don’t just gotta be when you’re horny. My brain is as good as my dick sometimes, you know?”

Alex laughed. “Yeah, I do. And I will. Promise.”

“Alright, cool.”

Lafayette saw Alex out, leaving him with a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of the hand. Alex’s face felt warm as he walked down to the main lobby and out of the building, and he tried to blame it on the heat. He had to admit, Lafayette was… great, really. He was easy to talk to and be around, he didn’t ask questions that were too personal, and he was really honest, which made Alex feel safe. He had never liked people who don’t speak their mind. It was like a sick game, but the game had actual consequences.

On his way back to John’s place, Alex grabbed some Mexican food for the two of them. He knew he wanted some kind of dinner, and old pizza just wasn’t gonna do it for him again.

When he got to the apartment, John was still sleeping. Alex filled up a cup halfway with water and dumped it on John’s head. The man shot up, gasping, his eyes wide and his hair dripping. Out of instinct, he swung and hit Alex in the hit, still not sure there was an intruder. If Alex had known how hard John could hit, he probably would’ve been standing somewhere else, but he didn’t.

“Shit!” Alex gasped. “You hit me in the fucking hip!”

“You dumped water on me!” John replied, finding his shirt and wiping his face.

“Just wanted to wake you up!” Alex replied.

John chuckled. “How was Lafayette’s?”

“Alright. We fucked, we smoked, drank some tea.” Alex shrugged. “I got dinner.”

“What time is it?”

“Like, three or four,” Alex replied.

John nodded. “Alright, yeah, dinner.”

The two of them walked into the kitchen and sat down. For a little bit, it was just them eating in silence, every now and then burping. Alex would find his eyes falling to John’s scarred and bruised arms, wondering if that’s what could happen to him. He didn’t do heroin a lot, but sometimes, every now and then, he would want to. John was always happy to oblige, never passing up an opportunity to get high.

“We should do some lush working tonight.”

“Yeah?” Alex looked up from his burrito.

“Yeah. If I’m gonna go on the cure, I’m not gonna be too handy for the next two weeks. You’ll be in charge of the selling, we have enough to last. I’ll need the bedroom. It’s pretty ugly, you don’t wanna see it.”

“Does it hurt? Going on the cure?”

John nodded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. “Feels like your entire nervous system is being pulled out of your body, inch by inch. Hurts like a motherfucker. Sometimes my mother would go on the cure. She hated it. She’d just lay in bed, crying for days. As a kid I never knew what to do. She’d just… she’d just fuckin’ go away for a few weeks, and then come back when she was clean.”

“How long would she stay clean?”

John shrugged. “Her record was a month. If my daddy hadn’t beat her, probably would’ve lasted longer.” He snickered darkly, as if he was thinking about it. “Never got it when school would tell us not to do drugs, you know? But they weren’t talkin’ to me, they were talking to the rich white kids who do drugs for no other reason than the fact that they got bored. Ain’t no one cares if you ‘n’ me do drugs.”

“No?”

“No.” John shook his head. “Nada. We ain’t important, not to them.”

“Who’s them?”

“Who’s not them?” John laughed. “Them is whoever you want it to be. The government, police, the system. It’s anyone who ain’t us.”

“And who’s us?”

John shook his head. “If you looked around a bit more, you’d know the difference between us and them. One nation, under a cloud of pollution, divided, with liberty and justice for all who can afford it.”

“That’s cute.” Alex took a bite of his burrito. “You should write that down, make a song out of it or something.”

“Shut up.”

Alex smiled.

“Alright, I’m gonna go jerk it, and then we’re gonna go, alright?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Alex watched John go into the living room, and then sighed, turning back to his burrito. Lafayette was right, John really didn’t need a crutch, but Alex wanted to give John a crutch. Something about him was just so… pathetic. He was like an ugly dog that just got kicked. You wanted to help him, even if he was shit. But Alex figured it best he heeds Lafayette’s words. Because he knew, one day, John was going to get himself killed. And Alex wasn’t gonna be there to help him.


	15. Personality Crisis

It was probably about one am when the phone rang. John was currently eating pizza crust first and watching old lady porn, so Alex was the one who got it. It was a hot night. All the windows were opened, and John had managed to get an electric fan from a pawn shop, and it was on the highest setting it could be on before it blew out the fuse. Alex was wearing nothing but his boxers, and still sweating like a pig. John was completely naked, curled up against a melting bag of ice he got at the bodega.

“Laurens residence, Alex speaking.”

“Hey, Alex.”

Alex lifted an eyebrow. “Hey, Liza, what’s up?”

“You and John aren’t busy, yeah?” Eliza started. She sounded really nervous, her voice was shaking. Alex had never heard her talk like that before.

“No, no, we’re not, what’s up?”

“I need your help. I’ve got a… a situation.” Eliza took a shaky breath. “I need you and John. John will know what to do.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be there soon. Where are you?”

“Eighty-eight Greenwich street, twentieth floor, apartment twenty-F.”

“Alright.” Alex wrote down the address. “We’ll be there in twenty.”

“Thanks.”

Alex hung up and looked at John. “Hey, Eliza needs us.”

“Both of us? At the same time?” John snickered. “Damn, girl’s crazy.”

“No, she sounded pretty freaked. Come on, get dressed, I told her we’d be there in twenty.”

John groaned, standing up. “Alright, alright.”

It was a short subway ride to where Eliza was, and the apartment building she was in looked clean and fancy. Both Alex and John felt out of place, dirty shoes and greasy hair, old clothes found digging through a bin at the Salvation Army. They stuck out like sore thumbs among the perfectly watered plants, the clean polished tile flooring, and the gold trim. It was a rich building, with rich tenants, who had rich jobs.

The two got into the elevator and pressed the button for the twentieth floor. The elevator was a smooth ride, and fast too. When they got to the twentieth floor, they walked slowly down the hallway, almost in awe at the amount of wealth they were seeing. John was sure a single painting was worth more than his entire life.

“Yo, Liz, it’s us.” Alex pounded on the door with the side of his fist.

Eliza opened it, and instantly, Alex and John knew something had gone terribly wrong. Eliza was wearing her lingerie, what she wore when she had a real client, not just one of her junky friends. It would’ve looked nice, _she_ would’ve looked nice, had it not been for the blood covering her.

“Come in, come in,” she muttered quickly, glancing out in the hallway to make sure no one saw them. She led the two into the kitchen, and Alex almost threw up at the sight before him.

On the floor, there was a man. At first glance, you couldn’t tell, but if you made note of the four limbs, the hundred dollar haircut, the species became obvious. His face was bashed in, he was lying in a puddle of his own blood. He had stab wounds in his chest, staining his white shirt. Alex looked back at Eliza. She had a bruise on her face, and her wrist looked swollen. Her arms were crossed in front of her.

“Jesus, Eliza.” Alex shook his head. “You said a situation, not a fucking murder scene.”

“Shut up.”

John hummed. “Well, uh, you certainly uh… he’s dead.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Eliza muttered.

“And you killed him?”

Eliza nodded.

“Alright.” John went to the liquor cabinet and got out a bottle of scotch. He poured three glasses, then handed them out. The three of them knocked it back, coughing and putting on a bitter face. John continued to not give out any further instruction, and instead went to the record player and put on some Frank Sinatra. He hummed to the music, refilling his glass and looking around the apartment.

“What are we gonna do?” Eliza muttered quietly.

John smiled, holding up a deck of cards. “We’re gonna play a game of Rummy.”

“John,” Alex muttered.

“We’re gonna play a game of rummy.” John sat down at the kitchen table and dealt out the cards. “Come on, bring the scotch.”

Eliza paused, then grabbed the bottle and sat down. Alex sat down next to her, and the three of them played Rummy. Two rounds, sips of scotch being the only sound besides John shuffling the cards.

The second round ended, and John stood up. “Alright, let’s do this.”

“What are we doing?”

“Nothing legal.” John laughed. “Okay, the first thing we need to do is clean up the kitchen. Eliza, you’re gonna show me and Alex to the bathroom, and we’re gonna leave this guy in the bathtub while we do this. Alex, help me. Get his legs, I’ll get his arms.”

Alex almost threw up when he touched the cold and rubbery skin of the man’s ankles. His mouth filled with bile when he watched part of the man’s skull hang off his head, waving with the movement. When they finally dropped him into the bathtub, Alex couldn’t do anything but vomit into the sink. It was just stomach acid, so it went down the drain pretty easily.

“Alright.” John clapped Alex’s shoulder, smiling. “Alex, you and I are gonna strip down to our underwear. Then, we’re gonna get a bucket and fill it up with bleach. After that, we’re gonna mop up all the blood, how does that sound, hm?”

Alex nodded, breathing heavily.

“Eliza, you’re gonna help.” John seemed eerily calm about all this, and Alex wondered if he had done this before.

Mopping up the blood took a lot of hard work and towels. Once the towels were completely soaked through with blood, John would put them in a trash bag. It took a lot to clean the kitchen. But they got it done. All their knees and hands were stained with blood and dried out with bleach. John found soap and lotion, and they all took a second to take care of themselves, wiping off the blood and stopping their skin from cracking further.

John rinsed out the bleach bucket and put it back under the sink, and then wiped off the bleach bottle and put it back as well.

“Alright, we’re gonna handle the body now.” John pulled out a few drawers until he found the knife drawer, and then grabbed a few large ones, setting them on the counter. He then grabbed some cling wrap and more trash bags. “Now, Eliza, you don’t gotta be there for this, but if you’re gonna make murder a regular thing I would suggest you learn how to clean up.”

Eliza nodded, and they all walked back into the bathroom.

John set the supplies on the bathroom counter and then chose a long sharp knife to begin his work. He cut himself on his wrist, checking to make sure it was sharp. He licked the blood off and then lifted the man’s left leg up. “Alright, the first thing you have to do is separate the limbs. Legs can be broken into two parts, same with arms.” John shoved the knife behind the knee, slicing it. “Cut the tendons, because then when you-” John bent the knee ninety degrees the wrong way, and a sickening crack filled the bathroom. “Break the knee, it’s easier.”

Eliza leaned over the toilet and threw up.

“Alex.” John handed the bottom half of the leg to Alex. “Wrap this in cling wrap.”

Alex nodded, shaking as he did so.

John got the legs and arms off with general ease. He was now on his knees, in the bathtub, straddling the bloody torso. “Now, here’s an important thing to remember. You always dump bodies in the Hudson, they go straight out to sea. But if you don’t-” John shoved the knife into the stomach and up. “Don’t puncture the lungs, the body will bloat with air and float to the top.”

“That’s disgusting,” Eliza muttered.

“Well, you were the one who killed him.” John punctured the other lung, sighing. “Alright, there we go.” He grabbed the butcher knife from the bathroom counter and hacked off the head.

Alex threw up into the sink again.

“Gimme the cling wrap.” John wrapped up the head, and then put it in the trash bag with the arms. All that was left was a sad bloody torso.

Eliza screamed when John stood up and jumped onto the chest, completely collapsing it in one go.

John stared at the blood mess under his feet, thinking, then used the last of the cling wrap, and got it in the trash bag with the legs. He turned on the faucet for the tub and washed out his hands, then washed the blood down the drain, scrubbing it a bit. He stood up, smiling. “Alright, next, we need to get dressed. Eliza, do you know if this man has a suitcase we can borrow?”

“I don’t know.”

John stretched, looking at the two trash bags. “I’m hungry. You wanna get tacos after this?”

“John, you’re fucking disgusting,” Alex muttered.

John chuckled. “You two, get dressed, I’m gonna find a suitcase.” He left the bathroom after that.

Alex looked to Eliza. “What the fuck happened?”

“He went too far.” Eliza didn’t want to talk about it.

“Alright. Let’s get dressed.” Alex and Eliza went into the kitchen and Eliza found her clothes. They both got dressed, and Alex poured them some more scotch. Eliza downed it quickly, staring at the cabinet.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” Eliza muttered.

“Yeah?”

She looked up. “You know what he said to me?”

“What?”

“He said he only fucked me because I looked the most like his sixteen-year-old daughter.”

Alex’s stomach turned. “I’m glad he’s dead too.”

Eliza poured herself a double and downed it again. “He didn’t deserve to walk this fucking earth.”

Alex nodded.

John came into the kitchen, rolling a suitcase behind him. “Human bodies are really good at fitting into suitcases.”

Eliza groaned.

“Alright, I’m gonna get dressed.” John began to put his clothes back on. “Now, Eliza, we need you to start crying. We’re gonna walk through the lobby, saying things like ‘I can’t believe he just kicked you out, I’m so sorry’ and all that shit. Then, we’re gonna go to Oasis park, and dump the body.” John smiled. “How’s that sound?”

Eliza nodded.

“Before we go though…” John began rummaging through the kitchen, then the living room, pocketing whatever he could. Any cash, jewelry, watches, anything.

“He’s a pig,” Eliza muttered.

John pocketed the silverware even, saying he could get money for it. Then they left, turning off the lights of the apartment and locking the door. On the elevator ride down, Eliza began to sob hysterically. The three walked through the lobby, John and Alex comforting her. The moment they were out of sight of the building though, Eliza stopped, wiping her cheeks.

It was a five-minute walk to where they needed to be. It was dark, and no one was out, so John unzipped the suitcase and pulled the trash bags out, wading into the Hudson. One by one, he pulled each limb out of its protection and pushed it into the river. None of them popped back up. John left the trash bags in there, then came out and did the same with the suitcase, getting rid of it.

John got out, putting his jacket back on and looking at Eliza and Alex. “Seriously, tacos?”

Alex leaned over and vomited.

The trio got tacos anyway, and then went back to John and Alex’s place. John got out some heroin and then ate about six tacos before shooting up and passing out. It was an inhumane scene, watching him do that, and Eliza and Alex could only stare in concern.

Eliza stood up and helped John lay down, and then put a blanket over him. “I thought he was getting clean.”

“He did. For about a month, he was actually pretty clean, and normal. Started up again recently though. Says it’s better now.” Alex stood up. “Are you alright?”

Eliza shook her head.

“You wanna watch porn?”

Eliza gave Alex a look and then shook her head. She grabbed a taco and took a bite. “I don’t know how you live in a place like this. It’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, but it’s actually pretty nice.” Alex shrugged. “You wanna go to sleep? You can have the bed.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll share the couch with junky.” Alex looked at John, shrugged a bit, and then back to Eliza. “Go to bed, we can talk more in the morning.”

“Alright.” Eliza took a deep breath, then kissed Alex’s cheek. “Thank you. Sorry for dragging you guys into this.”

“No, I’m glad we could help.” Alex touched her hand. “I’ll make breakfast tomorrow.”

Eliza nodded. “Night.”

“Night.”

She left, and Alex peeled off his shirt and jeans, laying on the other end of the couch, letting his legs tangle with John’s. He didn’t actually get to sleep, he just stared at the ceiling, trying not to think about the man who Eliza murdered. She did it for a good reason, but God, Alex felt sick.

Around five am, Alex rolled up a joint and smoked it. The smell woke John up, and he rolled one up as well.

“You seemed eerily fine about all of that,” Alex muttered.

“Yeah.” John looked up at Alex. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“What does that mean?”

John tilted his head, smiling a bit at Alex. He sighed, then took a hit from the joint. “You’re a good person, Alex, you know that?”

Alex shrugged.

“You are.”

“I mean, I just helped hide a body.”

“Eliza wouldn’t have killed him if she didn’t have a reason.” John reached forward and placed his hand on Alex’s knee. “Besides, you don’t even begin to grace the qualifications for being a bad person. So, maybe I take it back. Maybe you’re not a good person. I mean, you don’t donate to charity or help old ladies cross the road. You’re half a drug pusher, and your mom hated you so much she shot herself.”

Alex flipped John off.

“But you’re not a bad person. Believe me, bad people do bad things. You don’t do bad things. You’re just… neutral. It’s okay to be neutral.”

Alex nodded.

Eliza woke up, and the three ate breakfast together. John gave a story, wrote it down and gave Eliza a copy. It went down to the very last detail. Eliza and the client were in a relationship. They got into a fight, the client told her to pack her shit and leave, then locked himself in the bathroom. Alex and John came over to help Eliza get packed, and then they left. The bruises on Eliza were from the fight getting a bit physical. That was it. Whatever happened to him after that was a mystery.

Eliza left, and John brewed another pot of coffee.

“Is this over?”

John scoffed. “Do you know how easy it is to get away with murder?”

“No, I’ve never committed a murder before.”

John shifted uneasily. “Well, it’s easy. Just, let’s lay low for a little while, no lush working, nothing like that. I’ll pawn off the shit we got from his house later today, and you just… you just relax. Smoke some pot, jerk off.”

“Is this over? Like, is that it?”

John nodded. “We don’t talk about it, not even just us. After today, this never happened. Come on, Alex, it’s not like you didn’t kill people in Nam. Just think, this guy, he deserved it. You’ve done way worse, this is a piece of cake.”

“I still don’t like it,” Alex muttered.

“Then we can never talk about it again.” John gave a Cheshire smile. “Alex, this isn’t something that’s gonna come up. The best thing you can do is forget it. Why do you think I shot myself up the moment we got home? Even now, the details are fuzzy. Just, replace what you saw last night with the story we have. It’ll help you sleep at night.”

Alex leaned back, sipping his cold coffee. “Have you killed someone before?”

John looked at Alex. “I’ve done what I’ve needed to do to get by. I’ve protected my family, and I’ve protected my friends. That’s all you need to know.” John pulled Alex’s chair from the table and got on his knees in front of him. “And now I’m gonna suck you off because it’s a normal thing we do in this apartment in the morning.”

Alex nodded, letting his hand fall to John’s greasy hair.

John smiled, pulling down Alex’s jeans. “Hey, it’s all gonna be alright. I’m gonna solve all your problems, baby. You ain’t got nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t I?”

John shook his head, kissing up Alex’s shaft and thinking. “Let’s go get a dinner or something tonight, hm?”

“Yeah, that sounds alright.”

“Alright, cool.” John leaned up and pulled Alex down by his hair, kissing him. “You’re a good friend, Alex.”

Alex pressed his forehead to John’s. “Thanks, John. You are too.” And Alex was pretty sure he meant that. 


	16. The Way I Feel Inside

Alex wasn’t sure if he was on a date or not. But Lafayette had told him to dress nicely, and he was waiting outside a nice restaurant. Alex didn’t actually own nice clothes, so he had gone to the Salvation Army with Eliza, and she helped him find something nice. He was wearing a grey blazer about two sizes too big, and a black turtleneck under it. Since neither of them couldn’t actually find dress pants that fit Alex, he just wore the black jeans he owned. He felt awkward, leaning up against the street lamp outside the restaurant where Lafayette told him to be, smoking a cigarette. He had slicked back his shaggy long hair, trimmed up his goatee, shaved away the scruff that had grown out on his jaw and cheeks.

Lafayette came stumbling out of a cab, cigarette in his mouth, hair tied up. He was wearing a blue button-up with a white collar, and black suspenders holding up brown pants. The clothes were slim-fitting, giving him a pleasant waistline to look at. Alex felt extremely underdressed when looking at him. Lafayette was just so put together. Even his pointed black shoes shone better than the ones you would see on Wall Street.

“Alex, hey.” Lafayette smiled, holding his cigarette between his fingers. “Thanks for coming. You look great.”

Purely by accident, Alex burst out laughing, because there’s no way Lafayette could’ve meant that. “Fucking kidding me? I”m completely underdressed. I mean, shit.” He shook his head, looking at Lafayette. “Do you need a mirror or something?”

Lafayette laughed, hooking his arm with Alex’s. “Come on, let’s go get dirty looks from the people in the restaurant when we hold hands.”

They walked into the establishment, and Alex realized just how nice it was. Mahogany, flowers, people dressed in clean clothes. Alex found himself avoiding eye contact with most of the staff, but Lafayette walked with the confidence of someone who had nothing left to lose. He smiled at the woman at the front desk, placing his hand over Alex’s as he did.

“Reservation for two, you’ll find it under the name Lafayette.”

She gave a tight-lipped smile. “Ah, yes. Right, this way.”

She led them to a table by a window, and they both sat down. Alex could feel the eyes on him and Lafayette, but Lafayette, who was lighting up a fresh cigarette, didn’t even seem to notice.

“Could we get a bottle of Merlot red? Something aged, but oaky. Maybe a seventy-five if you have it.” Lafayette gave the woman another smile.

“Of course,” she replied.

When she left, Lafayette turned to Alex. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Alex asked, looking up from the menu he had been staring into since they sat down.

“You look like you’re ashamed to be yourself. It’s my biggest pet peeve, queers being scared to be queer.” Lafayette looked around, smiling at all the peering eyes who quickly looked away. “What are they gonna do, huh? Throw out a slur that we’ve heard a million times before?” Lafayette grabbed Alex’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “Let ‘em. I’m happy to be here with you.”

Alex smiled, not pulling his hand away from Lafayette’s. “This is really nice. How can you afford it?”

Lafayette shrugged, giving Alex a mysterious smile. “I dunno, I have my ways.”

The waitress came back with a bottle of red and poured two glasses, then took orders. Lafayette ordered a Filet Mignon, and Alex ordered braised brisket with plums, then took a nervous sip of his wine. There were people looking at them, staring holes into Alex and Lafayette’s hands, staring at their feet under the table, and the way Lafayette’s rubbed up against Alex’s leg in a tender way.

Alex was pretty comfortable with his queer identity at this point in his life. He was closing in on thirty, and he had decided that it wasn’t worth caring about. He knew he was queer, and he had no problem with that. He had no problem with kissing other men, touching them, letting them touch him.

But he did have a problem with other people knowing he was queer. He felt like he was on parade for the whole restaurant to see. He felt like he had just walked in nothing but a rainbow thong, and was now getting his ass fucked. He hadn’t, but with the looks he was getting, it’s what it felt like.

“Hey.” Lafayette pulled Alex’s attention away from the people staring at them. “Most of them are just looking because they’ve never seen queers before.”

“It’s weird,” Alex mumbled.

Lafayette stood up a bit, pressing a kiss to Alex’s lips, then looked at the people around. “Alright, you got your show. Go back to your wining and dining. We’re not gonna stop holding hands no matter how tightly you clutch your pearls.”

That seemed to snap the other people from their gawking, and they quickly turned back to their meals, hushed gossiping transforming back into regular conversation.

Lafayette smiled, then looked at Alex. “Tell me about your family.”

“Oof.” Alex sipped his wine. “I don’t think that’s really first date stuff, huh?”

“Okay, then I’ll tell you about mine.” Lafayette took a drag from his cigarette. “My father was a fag, birthed me himself. His parents basically disowned him, cut him off. We lived in poverty, lower than poverty. You ever seen the slums of Paris?”

Alex shook his head.

“Well, it’s people stacked on top of people, houses made of paper mache, kids dressed in rags and corn husks, sleeping in the mud. It’s disease-ridden, disgusting, rats everywhere. I got Pontiac fever at least once a month.”

“No shit.”

“I know right?” Lafayette laughed. “My father sold himself on the streets to make money, I worked in factories as soon as I could.”

Alex bit the inside of his cheek.

“And then my father was shot and killed by police in the protests of sixty-nine, buried under his legal name. One day, I’m gonna go back, get him a new headstone, a real one.”

“So, did you just get moved to America after he died?”

Lafayette shrugged. “No, I got put in an orphanage, but my father, he had wanted us to move to America. And so I decided I was gonna go anyway, so I dressed up as a young woman, which I could do thanks to my boyishly feminine features and my hips. I managed to convince a ship hand to let me on for free, and I went to America. I was only ten or so, but I found work. I stayed on the docks in New York until I connected with my aunt, helped unload and pack up ships. As I got older, I got into odd jobs, made my money.”

“You have the type of life story a writer in the forties would write about,” Alex stated. “Like, EM Forster or something.”

“Oh yeah? What about you?” Lafayette leaned forward. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“Well, I moved from Germany when I was thirteen, and-”

“Do you speak German?”

Alex shook his head. “No, not really. My mother did, but I grew up learning English.”

“What about your father?”

“Uh, my father was…” Alex tried to think about how to tell this story. “You know, the holocaust, yeah?”

“No, jog my memory,” Lafayette snickered sarcastically.

Alex smiled. "Well, when the camps were liberated, and everyone who was fighting Germany and Poland won, my father was on a death march."

"What's that?"

"Just, like, when they march you until you die. It was a lot easier to do that during the holocaust because most of the people there hadn't eaten in days. People dropped dead right next to you." Alex paused the story as the food was set down, and then continued. "So anyway, the camps were liberated, the guards all just bolted, and my father, and the men he was marching with, they were standing outside the camp with all the women in that area. My mother was young, so was he, but they got married and moved to Germany since they were in Poland at the time. Uh, they couldn't have kids for a while, my mother was almost incapable of it. Doctors thought she was barren. My father beat her for it. Then she got pregnant."

“Jesus.”

Alex nodded. “My mother hated men. Absolutely hated them. Would barely talk to the Rabbis. Anyway, she got pregnant, and then when I was born, a few weeks early, might I add, my father just bolted, leaving my mother.”

“Did your mom have any surviving family?”

Alex shook his head. “No, no, it was just me and her. Her mother, her sister, father, uncles, aunts, cousins, all died. Gas, disease, starvation, ovens.” Alex shrugged. “She couldn’t keep track of who got what.” Alex took a bite of his food. “Anyway, we lived in Germany for a while, and then she moved to America to be a seamstress. She was a good seamstress, made all my clothes, made her own clothes. Then, when I was sixteen, she killed herself.”

Lafayette frowned.

“I dropped out of school to work, and then I enlisted in the army. Fought for a few years, then the war ended, my contract ended, and I just…” Alex shrugged. “Yeah, that’s really about it.”

“You don’t have a storybook life,” Lafayette stated, sipping his wine.

Alex shook his head. “I mean, you did ask though.”

“No, no, I’m glad I know. Gives me an idea of why you’re so…” Lafayette waved his hand. “Like that.”

“And what am I like?”

“Kind.” Lafayette tilted his head. “Most people with fucked up lives are kind. Or they’re fucking assholes. Usually-” Lafayette began to cut his steak up. “You can tell why a person is the way they are by their childhood. For instance, you have a very… flat personality and way of life.”

“I’ve been working on that,” Alex scoffed.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” Lafayette looked up. “It’s nice, actually. I can talk to you without hearing about a crime ring or a drug addiction, prostitution and all that.” Lafayette took a bite of his food. “Anyway, you’re like that because your life as a kid wasn’t. You’re obviously pretty fucked up from all that you went through, war and your mother, immigration, ect., so you find peace in a life that’s average and normal. One with structure.”

“My life doesn’t have much structure anymore,” Alex pointed out.

“Yeah, but that’s not a conscious decision you made.” Lafayette took another bite of his food. “And if we locked you in a room with four walls, a kitchen, and a bed, you’d find a way to give yourself structure again, pretty quickly, I bet.”

“Okay, Freud.”

Lafayette smiled. “I used to sneak into Columbia, listen in on Psych classes. The human brain is fucking weird, and I like it.”

Alex smiled, taking a bite of his food. “So, did you stay in New York because it’s all you know, or because you actually like it here?”

“Alex, no one actually likes living in New York.” Lafayette leaned forward. “You can want to live here, but no one actually likes it.” He sat back. “And I stayed here because America is a very big country, and I do not wish to find out how big. Like the monster, in Lovecraft’s book.”

“You read Lovecraft?” Alex scoffed.

“Dear, if we chose not to read books that attacked us as people, then we would have no books to read. Even Oscar Wilde hated the Jews.”

Alex chuckled.

“So, your full name is Alexander?”

Alex nodded. “Protector of people or something like that.”

“I like it. I think it suits you.” Lafayette rubbed his thumb against Alex’s hand. “It… it’s a name that’s just right for you. Just boyish enough to match that smile, but grown up enough to fit your build.”

“Is Lafayette your first name?”

Lafayette shook his head. “No, my first name is Gilbert.”

Alex accidentally laughed.

Lafayette seemed to be expecting it though and smiled tenderly. “Yes, I know. It is quite ugly. But that is why I go by my last name. My father always told me I had every right to pick the name I liked best. How ironic would it have been for him to be upset at me going by something else.” He laughed.

“I think Lafayette suits you.”

Lafayette nodded.

It was probably the best dinner Alex had ever had in his entire life. Lafayette was so attentive, so sweet on him. He never interrupted Alex, never pushed, never asked too much. They talked and talked, eventually moving to the bar and sharing drink after drink. Lafayette kept his hand on Alex’s thigh the whole time, always sneaking in little touches and kisses.

When they finally decided it was time to go, Lafayette walked Alex out of the restaurant, then told him to wait there, before going back in. It was weird, Alex would admit that much, but he waited, figuring Lafayette was grabbing a dessert or something like that.

It took several minutes, and then suddenly, a DMC Delorean pulled up to the front of the restaurant, screeching to a stop. Lafayette quickly hopped out of the driver's seat, waving manically at Alex.

“Get it! Quick!”

Alex didn’t know what was happening, but he got in the car, and Lafayette took off, weaving through the streets of New York. “What are we doing? Is this your car?”

Lafayette turned to Alex, a wild look in his eyes. “Nope.”

Alex stared at Lafayette for a moment, then smiled. He leaned over and began to kiss and suck at Lafayette’s neck, his hand going to the man’s crotch. Lafayette paid equal attention to Alex and the road, still driving like the cops were after him.

He pulled into a garage, and then pulled Alex into his lap, kissing him. The horn kept going off, Alex’s bony ass hitting it every now and then. They were both about two seconds away from sticking their hands down each other’s pants, when a knock on the window interrupted them.

Lafayette opened the door and both he and Alex fell out of it, laughing.

“Nice car,” the guy mumbled. “Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, that’s not how we work.” Lafayette smiled, clapping the man’s shoulder. “Come on, it’s new. How much?”

The man began circling the car, popping the trunk and looking at the windows.

“What’s he doing? What’re we doing?” Alex asked softly.

“I make my money however I can.” Lafayette shrugged.

“Alright, Laf, forty k.”

“Forty k, come on now.”

“You gotcha fag juices on the seat, lotta guys get way less for way more, but I cut you slack because youses steady, alright? Forty k. Come on, this shit ain’t easy, I gots to get news numbers ‘n’ new plateses.”

Lafayette huffed. “Yeah, alright.”

“Youses wait here, I’ll go get the cash.”

He left, and Alex turned to Lafayette. “You make a lotta money doing this, don’t you?”

Lafayette nodded. “Let’s head back to my place after this, huh? Make my roommate mad at me.” Lafayette pulled Alex closer. “Yeah? Get a little messy?”

Alex smiled. “Yeah.”

Lafayette pulled Alex into a small kiss. “I got condoms at home.”

“Cool.”

The man came back, handing Lafayette an envelope of cash, which Lafayette proceeded to shove down his pants. He put his arm around Alex and the two of them walked back to Lafayette’s apartment. Laf’s roommate, a tall black guy with a short afro was on the couch, smoking a cigarette and watching a film. Lafayette uttered a hello and pulled Alex into his room. Alex fell back onto the bed, slipping off his clothes in a messy and quick manner.

Lafayette, on the other hand, took his damn time, peeling each article from his body like it was an art. God, it made Alex hard before he could even have time to get hard. Lafayette grabbed some condoms and lube, then got on his knees in between Alex’s legs.

“So, hey, I had a nice time tonight.”

Alex chuckled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lafayette pressed his hand against Alex’s thigh. “I’d like to do it again.”

“What? Steal a car?” Alex snorted.

“No.” Lafayette gave Alex a tender look, something Alex swore he hadn’t even gotten from his mother. “Be with you. I liked this. I _like_ this. I like being with you, Alex.”

Alex felt his face heat up. “I like being with you too.”

“Tomorrow morning, don’t leave. Let me cook you breakfast, and I’ll walk you back. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright.” Lafayette leaned down and kissed Alex. “Let’s do this.”


	17. I'm Waiting For The Man

“So, what’d you get up to last night?” John asked as Alex sat down with his second cup of coffee.

Alex was still in the clothes he was wearing last night, his grey blazer slung over the chair. Lafayette had cooked him an omelet for breakfast, and fucked him in the shower, then walked Alex back to the apartment building. He had been so tender, holding Alex’s hand, smiling softly and telling him that he’d call. Alex still had a warmth in his stomach from that soft emotion, and Lafayette’s wide smile, and deep brown eyes. “Just dinner.”

John perked up, looking at Alex. “Dressed awfully nice for dinner.”

“It was a nice restaurant.” Alex sipped his coffee and picked up the paper.

“A nice restaurant? What kind of money you making to be able to go to a nice restaurant.”

“I didn’t pay, Lafayette did.”

John was quiet for a second, thinking. “So, what, you and Eliza and Lafayette went out or something?”

“No, it was just me and Lafayette.” Alex eyed John over the newspaper. “Why?”

John shrugged, taking a messy bite of cereal. “Nothing. No reason. Whatever. Fuck off.” John held up his middle finger.

Alex mimed sucking dick at John and then went back to his newspaper.

“My father has cancer.”

Alex looked up.

“Throat cancer, apparently really fucking painful, makes it hard for him to breathe.” John snickered. “Life comes at you, don’t it?”

“Are you gonna go and see him?”

John shook his head. “The one thing that would bring that man peace is me and Martha forgiving him. So I’m gonna let him die knowing that I hate his guts.” John pulled out his cigarette tin and lit on up. “I’m gonna get him to die knowing that I will never forgive him for the shit he pulled.”

Alex nodded. “How long he got?”

John shrugged. “James called me this morning, said he’s got maybe four months tops.” He gave a Cheshire smile to Alex. “So, my sister and I are gonna go drinking tonight, a little celebration. Toasting to… to outliving the bastard who made our lives hell.”

“He hasn’t died yet,” Alex pointed out.

“Ah, I can wait. I’m a patient man.”

“No, you’re not.”

John leaned forward, putting his chin on his fist. “You’re right, I’m not. But, unfortunately, murder is illegal in all fifty states, and if I killed that man, ugh-” John waved his hand. “They’d be knocking on my door before I could even wash the blood out of my jacket.”

Alex snickered.

“Anyway.” John stood up. “What are you doing today?”

Alex shrugged. “Not a lot, really.”

John paused, standing behind Alex, then leaned down and took a long sniff of Alex’s hair. “You smell weird. What is that?”

“Lafayette’s shampoo.”

John frowned. “We have a working shower.”

“Our water is brown.”

John scoffed. “Complain much?”

“Only on days that end with y.” Alex looked up and smiled at John, earning himself a flick to the forehead.

“Got a few people coming over tonight, just looking to get their things and go.” John seemed to always talk in code, even when it was just him and Alex. “You think you can greet ‘em, meet ‘em, get paid and beat ‘em?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I can, father Christmas.”

“Father Christmas?”

Alex shrugged. “Whenever goyim rhyme all I can think about is Christmas.”

“Why? What’s goyim?”

“Rhyming just seems like a Christmas thing.” Alex took a sip of his coffee. “And goyim, it just means like, a non-Jewish person. But like, not like gentiles. It’s like the Jewish equivalent of cracker.”

“So you called me a cracker?”

“No, I called you a goy.” Alex smiled at John.

“I’m gonna fight you,” John decided, coming towards Alex.

Alex screamed and laughed, running to their bedroom. John ran after him, laughing. Alex didn’t have time to close and lock the door, so John was in just seconds later, pushing him onto the bed and pinning his wrists.

“I win,” John decided.

“Eat a dick.”

John sighed, looking down at Alex. “You do look really nice, you know that?”

“Hm? Oh.” Alex looked down at himself, still wearing the turtleneck. “Not my favorite look, but it’s alright.”

“It’s more than alright.” John took one of his hands and ran it across Alex’s cheek. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“Shut up, queer,” Alex mumbled, looking away.

John leaned down and kissed Alex. Alex kissed back, hooking his leg on John’s hip. They kept kissing, John laying on top of Alex. John wouldn’t stop kissing Alex for any reason, and they were both running out of breath. Alex was clutching John’s shoulders, moaning into the kiss. His heart was in his ears, and all he could feel was the weight of John’s ribs between his hips. It was passionate, fast, needy. It was like John was oh so thirsty, and Alex was the only thing close to water.

John only relinquished the kiss to get Alex’s shirt off and unbutton the man’s jeans. John had never been capable of giving porn worthy blow jobs, but Alex didn’t mind the spit and jizz that dripped into his pubic hair. As long as John reached the goal of Alex's finish, there would be no complaining.

When Alex came, John swallowed it all and sat up, looking at a mostly naked Alex. He sighed, touching Alex’s thigh, then got off the bed. “Come on, let’s watch some TV.”

“Thought TV was worse than…” Alex shrugged. “Than TV dinners.”

“When did I say that?” John asked.

“When we first met or something.”

John shook his head. “I don’t think I ever said that.”

Alex cocked his head but went along with it because he had no reason not to. He got dressed again and followed John into the living room. There was a box of day-old pizza that had been sitting on the coffee table since last night, and John flipped it open, inviting Alex to some.

Alex, if he had gotten a say in what they watched, probably would’ve chosen a sitcom or a soap opera, but John didn’t care what Alex wanted to watch. He turned on an episode of Jeopardy and sat back, getting a slice of pizza for himself and lighting up a cigarette, before giving one to Alex.

Alex didn’t want to do anything that day. John was in and out of the apartment, getting things done and whatnot. Alex spent most of the day on the couch, dozing in and out, watching TV and reading. He was tired. He hadn’t really gotten much sleep the night before, so he took the lazy day and did nothing.

When John was finally about to go drinking, he left a few piles of drugs on their bed, each labeled with a name and a price. John had his hair tied back, and Alex could see a scar along the back of his neck. He chose not to question it, deciding John was in a good mood, and he didn’t want to ruin that.

“Alright, you do not give people discounts, okay? No credit. Nothing. I don’t care if they get on their knees and suck your dick. I know exactly how much money we should have by the end of the night, and I want to see that exact amount. No less.”

“What if I pulled in more?”

For a moment, John looked like he was going to punch Alex in the mouth. It quickly changed to a sly smile though. “If you can pull in more, I’ll eat your ass, how about that? No cheating.”

Alex chuckled. “Alright, deal.”

John ruffled Alex’s hair, smiling softly. “Deal. I’m gonna go meet my sister. I’ll be back late, maybe midnight, maybe later. You don’t… don’t cause any trouble, alright?”

“I’m not fucking seven, get outta here,” Alex scoffed, laughing and flipping John off.

John returned the crude gesture playfully and then left the apartment.

Alex and his newfound alone time wasn’t anything of great interest. He read, enjoyed the quiet, and took a shower. People filtered in and out, Alex supplying them with all they would need for a nice night. John’s business was steady, people knocking. A few people tried to ask for credit, but Alex remembered John’s words and shook his head. They had the money, they coughed it up.

It was getting later, and Alex brewed a pot of coffee and began snacking on cold pizza. According to the sorted piles left on the bed, there was one more person left. Alex got the drugs and put them on the kitchen table, sitting down with his book. An hour passed, it was about midnight, and then someone knocked on the door. Alex got up and opened it.

There was an air of silence between the two. Both of them looked so different than they had when they last saw each other. Alex stared the man down, brows pushed together. He had on a thick black coat. He looked homeless. Had it not been for the scar running down the side of the man’s face, Alex probably would’ve just not even recognized him.

“Tench,” Alex muttered.

Tench pressed his lips together. “Alex.”

Alex and Tench had a bit of history. They were military buddies, shared a tent, best friends. The last time Alex saw Tench though, Tench was being pulled away, screaming at him, telling him that it was his fault another one of their army buddies died. He was furious, he had just attacked Alex, attempting to bash his face in or something like that. Alex had never really spoken of that day or even thought of it, but with Tench here in his face, it was all he could think about.

Nathan had a young face. He was this soldier from Nebraska, had the blonde hair slicked back with grease. He was the star American dreamboat. He had a pregnant wife back home, a high school sweetheart, and he loved her more than anything in this world. He would barely even look at another woman. He was sweet and dopy, with big dreams and a bigger heart.

It was a surprise attack, Alex and his troop were running back to the helicopter, trying to get out of there. Nathan and Tench were in the group. Nathan got caught in an animal trap of some type. Something that trappers used to get big animals. His foot was basically hanging onto his leg by his Achilles tendon. Tench tried to go back for him, but Alex knew neither of them would make it if that happened. He grabbed Tench by the back of his uniform and hauled him into the bird just as it took off. Tench was screaming, the whole troop watched someone shoot Nathan right between the eyes.

When they got back to the camp, it took two men to pull Tench off of Alex. He was furious, screaming and doing anything to hurt Alex. The army docs said Tench could’ve killed Alex had he kept going, and God, Alex felt like death. His face was pretty bashed up, and there wasn’t much to do in the makeshift hospital besides replaying the image of Nathan getting shot over and over in his head.

Alex never saw Tench again after that. He knew he was somewhere in New York or New Jersey, but Alex never made any attempt to look Tench up. He was sure Tench had no wish to see Alex. But now, here they were. Standing across from each other. Alex didn’t know what to say, how to start the conversation.

“Uh.” Alex stepped aside. “Come in.”

“You the new John?”

“No one can be the new John,” Alex muttered. “No, I’m not. John’s father is dying, so he’s out celebrating with his sister. I’m just… filling in.” He shifted on his feet a bit. “I mean, how are you, man? It’s been a bit.”

Tench let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah. I’m alright, just… you know, making it.”

Alex nodded.

There was a silence in the apartment, and both of them wished they were somewhere else. Alex wished John was there. He’d fix whatever awkward energy had fallen over the apartment.

“Do you want a beer?”

Tench laughed. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

“Sit down, sit down.” Alex went to the fridge. “PBR alright?”

“Anything’s better than that makeshift alcohol-free army beer that tastes like, like deer piss and the bathwater after we all had used it.”

Alex laughed, setting two cans on the table and sitting down. “Then all the new recruits, who didn’t know it was fucking… fake.”

Tench nodded, smiling and taking a sip of his beer. “God, you remember when you fucking bet one you could out drink them before they knew the beer was fake, and you fucking obliterated them.”

Alex nodded. “That was like, the only good part of the beer, the money you could make off of it.”

Tench chuckled. “So, how long have you known John?”

“Huh? Oh, I dunno, a while now, I guess. Met at a fag bar, then I lost my job and he gave me a couch to crash on, then I just never left I guess. He’s pretty alright to be around though, you know? Just, yeah.” Alex took a long sip of his beer, thinking. “What about you?”

“Eh, lived in Jersey for a while, but came to New York for work. John’s the only dealer in this area.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Alex took a sip of his beer and then looked down at the table. “I don’t wanna bring up shit, but I just… you know not a day goes by when I don’t think about Nathan, yeah?”

Tench swallowed hard. “Huh.”

“Did you ever keep in touch with his wife?”

Tench nodded. “She got remarried, had the baby, a little boy. Lives down in Austin, Texas, guess she’s doing alright, working for Mary Kay or some shit like that.”

“Good, I’m glad she ended up alright.”

Tench sighed, looking around the apartment. “How’d your life go after you left the army?”

“Eh.” Alex shrugged. “Move back into my mother’s place, pretty much ate the same TV dinner every night for five years.”

“What changed?”

“I started fucking a drug dealer,” Alex snorted.

Tench laughed. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“How about you?”

“How does it look like I’m doing?” Tench laughed. “I’m homeless, addicted to junk, about an inch from death.”

Alex let out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah. Shit’s fucked.”

“Ain’t it?”

Alex and Tench talked for about twenty more minutes, before being interrupted by John stumbling through the door. He was drunk as a skunk, still laughing a bit. He ruffled Alex’s hair, and then went into their room, coming out seconds later in nothing but an untied purple robe.

“John,” Alex scoffed. “Your cock’s out.”

John laughed, grabbing it and waving it in Alex’s general direction. “Bet you like it, huh? Who’s this?”

“Tench.”

“Why’s he here?”

“Army buddies.”

John snorted, finding a beer and a blunt. “Murder friends.”

Alex gave a sarcastic smile to Tench, then looked to John, who was leaning against the counter, still completely indecent. “How was drinking? How’s your sister?”

“We’re both good, it was all good. We’ll be better, she’ll be better, when my father dies.” John laughed. “Did you make more money than you planned on? Do I gotta bury my face in that flat ass of yours?”

“Eat a bag of cocks,” Alex snorted. “No, I didn’t.”

John laughed. “Ha!”

“You gonna hang out here or go choke on your own sick once you lie down on your back?” Alex muttered, trying to hint at John to get out of here.

“Alright, I’m going. Gonna shoot up or something.” John pulled Alex’s chair out and pulled him into a wet and passionate kiss. Alex didn’t see it, but as they kissed, John made sure to make eye contact with Tench, telling him silently that Alex was _his_ and he didn’t plan on sharing.

After John left, Alex and Tench talked a bit longer, and then Tench left, the number to the apartment in his pocket, as well as the drugs. Alex sighed, finding a rubber band to tie his hair up with, and then went into his and John’s room. John was naked, sitting above the covers smoking a blunt.

“How’s it going?” Alex asked, sitting next to John.

“Eh.” John smiled at Alex. “Just thinking about you.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

John laid back, pulling Alex with him. He sniffed the blunt out on the nightstand and closed his eyes. “Lay here with me, alright?”

“Yeah.” Alex hooked his leg over John’s, thinking. “What’re you gonna do when your Dad dies?”

“Gonna go down and attend the funeral, see my family.” John shrugged. “You wanna come?”

“Why?”

“I dunno, it’d piss my brother off to see me fucking a man.” John laughed. “And I don’t wanna go down and just be with my family. Yeah?”

Alex nodded. “Alright, I’ll come.”

“You promise?”

“The fuck you want from me, a pinky swear?” Alex elbowed John’s bare stomach. “Fuck off, I said I’d go.”

John laughed.

“Hey.”

John looked over at Alex. “Yeah?”

“Just… me and Laf, we’re casual, it’s not, we’re not in a relationship or anything.” Alex pressed his lips together. “Just, just to let you know.”

John nodded. “Why would I care?”

Alex shrugged. “I dunno.”

They didn’t speak anymore after that, but Alex saw the smile that John let befall his lips. Alex closed his eyes, leaning his head against John’s shoulder, and then fell asleep.


	18. Dangerous

Alex was the only one at the apartment when someone began knocking frantically on the door. He got up and opened the door. Standing there was a skeleton. No, it was a woman, but she was awfully close to a skeleton. She was wearing a black leather skirt, and her thighs didn’t touch, not even with her knees pushed together. Bracelets hung off her thin wrists like they were about to slide off. Her hair was frizzy and unbrushed, her eyes were big, and her lips looked like they had gotten injections, and then the injections were removed, but not very well. She looked an inch from death.

“Uh, hey,” Alex started.

“John in?” She asked, out of breath.

“Nah, he’ll be back soon though.” 

She smiled, pushing Alex a bit inside and closing the door with her foot. “You’re cute. We can kill time, I guess.”

Alex had never gone from no sex to sex in so little time. This woman pushed him onto the couch and pulled down his pants, then pulled up her skirt. She was wearing a leotard, so she pushed it to the side and guided Alex’s cock into her. It was awkward at first, Alex wasn’t quite hard, but it didn’t take long for him to get there. He gasped, gripping her hips as she rode him. He kept his head thrown back, kept his legs apart. 

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that?”

Alex didn’t even respond, just let her continue with her actions. He felt a bit weird, fucking a woman he didn’t even know the name of, but he hadn’t stuck his dick in something in a while, so he let it happen, gasping and groaning as she rode him. She wasn’t wet, not really, but she didn’t seem to care.

“What the fuck!”

The girl stopped riding Alex, laughing and tilting her head back. “Hiya, Johnny. Good to see you.”

“Alex!” John slammed the door shut. “Why are you fucking my sister?”

“This is your sister?” Alex gasped. He quickly pushed her back onto the couch and stood up, buttoning his pants. “I didn’t know that!”

“How could you not? We look exactly alike!”

Now that John mentioned it, they did look alike. Same skinny build, same face shape, same brown skin and brown hair, same eyes and nose. Alex felt stupid for not seeing it now, but in his defense, there wasn’t exactly a lot of time to take in detail.

“Sorry!” Alex tucked in his shirt. “She came onto me.”

Martha laughed from the couch, tugging down her skirt and standing up. “Awh, Johnny, it’s okay if your friends fuck me.” She stumbled over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, practically hanging off of him. “He’s cute, too, which one is he?”

“This is Alex.”

“Ha! How funny!” Martha was now relying entirely on John to support her. “You think you can lemme crash here a few days, Johnny baby? Just a few, please, please, please?”

“Yeah, Martha, of course.” John helped her back to the couch and sat her down. “When was the last time you ate?”

Martha laughed. “Four days ago. Lost another inch on my tummy, can you believe it? Doctors said I had nothing left to lose, but look at me!” Martha laughed. “Ain’t I pretty?”

John had to work to hide the look of disgust on his face. “I’ll order a pizza.”

“You don’t think I’m pretty?” Martha pouted. “Come on, Johnny, humor me. I need the men related to me to think I’m pretty, or otherwise, why would I starve myself?”

“Don’t be gross, Martha.” John looked to Alex. “You think you can get the pizza?”

Alex nodded. 

John went over to the couch and sat down next to Martha, helping her get her platforms off. She had bruises on the inside of her thighs. John ignored them, tossing the black platforms somewhere and getting a blanket for her. 

“You’re gonna eat something, alright?” John mumbled. 

“It’s just gonna come right back up.” Martha leaned in closer to John. “Nothing stays down anymore anyway. Did you know they sell pills at the corner store to make you throw up? I sell my soul and virginity to get my hands on a few opioids and yet here I am, starving myself with government funding.” She laughed, tilting her head back. “How ironic!”

John stood up, letting her fall back on the couch. “Why’re you here, Martha?”

“Needed a place to crash. Might’ve pissed off the wrong people, sleeping with the wrong people.” Martha sighed. “Just gotta let the cookies cool.”

John nodded. “You can have the bedroom.”

Alex put the phone on the receiver and looked to John as he walked into the kitchen. “She alright?”

“No.” John rolled his eyes. “My sister likes attention. Don’t fuck her.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“I’m serious. Don’t.” John grabbed Alex’s arms. “If you do it again, I’ll kick you out of my apartment, never talk to you again, stop hooking you up with stuff. Don’t do it.”

Alex nodded. “I won’t.”

“Good.” John pulled out some beers and walked back into the living room. He gave one to Martha and then sat down next to her. Alex sat on the other side of John, taking the last unclaimed beer and opening it up. 

“John, why does your apartment remind me of our trailer?” Martha asked, leaning her head against John’s shoulder.

“Because it’s disgusting, and owned by a junky,” John replied smoothly, downing a sip of his beer.

Martha tilted her head back, laughing. “You’re right! Ha…” She sighed a bit. “Do you think we’re gonna get invited to the funeral?”

“Yeah,” John nodded. 

“Let’s make ‘em regret it.” Martha tried to stand up, but didn’t get very far, and fell back onto the couch. Alex started to wonder how she even got to the apartment.

“What do you need, Marty?” John asked.

“A man to love me,” Martha sighed, biting her lip. She looked over at Alex, who immediately looked anywhere else. 

“Be for real,” John huffed. 

“Some water,” Martha told him.

John left the living room and Martha instantly leaned over to Alex, smiling. “You wanna finish what we started?”

Alex shook his head.

“What? You don’t think I’m cute?”

Alex didn’t. Martha looked dead. 

“Or do you think I look like a rape victim?” Martha laughed. “I get that a lot. Bet you can almost see me, legs apart, naked in the neighbor's yard, panties at my ankles.” Martha pushed herself up. “Gagged and bound, pushed out of a van.”

“Martha,” John snapped. “Sit up. Come on, let’s get you into something decent.”

“You gonna dress me, John? Like a doll?” Martha shook her head. “You even try and take my clothes off and I’ll bite you.”

John groaned, then pulled her up and pulled the blanket around her. “Come on, Martha, let’s get you to sleep. You just need to sleep.”

“Mm, maybe.” Martha wasn’t walking as well as she was when she first arrived. Alex began to realize just how high she was. John treated her like a child he was worried about, one that couldn’t take care of herself. Martha, honestly, looked like she couldn’t take care of herself. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks, she looked like she was about a drink away from overdosing, and she looked like sleep hadn’t even crossed her mind for the past month. Alex thought it darkly ironic. He had always kind of wondered about John’s sister. And now, here she was, half-naked, high off her ass, with thighs thinner than Alex’s forearm.

“She one of those anorexics?” Alex asked John when he came back out.

“Yeah, since she was a kid. Never ate.” John shrugged, sitting down. “Been in and out of hospitals her whole life.”

“You know, I should’ve guessed that she was your sister.”

“Yeah?”

“Ain’t no one else as open about their shit as you are, besides her at least.” Alex snorted. “I think I knew why you were so fucked up before I even knew your middle name.”

“Do you know my middle name?”

Alex paused, then shook his head. “No, what is it?”

“It’s Henry.”

“Yeah?”

John nodded. “What’s yours?”

“James.”

“I got a brother named James.”

“I did too.”

John creased his brows. “You have a brother?”

“Had,” Alex corrected. 

“Did he die?”

Alex nodded. “My mother and I wouldn’t have left Germany if my brother hadn’t been killed. It was a message to us. Germany didn’t just stop hating the Jews the moment the camps were liberated. There’s a fight going on, yeah, but my mother wasn’t a part of that fight, and she didn’t care to be.”

John nodded.

“We didn’t live in a ghetto, that’s where most of the Jewish people have lived throughout history. My mother refused to live in a ghetto. Said she’d never be Jewish enough to be treated poorly ever again.”

“How’d that work out?”

“Shit.”

John nodded. 

“But she… anyway, we moved to the wrong neighborhood. My brother said the wrong things to a few kids whose parents were in the Hitler youth or something. Got his head bashed in. We buried him and left.”

“You miss him?”

“He was a loudmouth with a lot of bad opinions.” Alex chuckled. “I basically live with him now.”

John punched Alex’s shoulder. “Eat my shit and hair.”

“Go jump out of a plane without a parachute,” Alex scoffed.

John gave a Cheshire smile. “Sit on a cactus until you jizz blood.”

“Drop dead.”

“Get fucked.”

“Drink my piss.”

“Eat a fucking cow dick.”

Alex smiled. “That’s actually a delicacy somewhere.”

“I hope you drink cyanide and die.”

Alex laughed, leaning against John. “Whatever, dude.” He sighed softly, closing his eyes and breathing in the smell of liquor and BO that John always seemed to have. The only time John smelt any different was after his once in a lifetime showers, and then he just smelled like the dirty shower water and Irish Spring soap. 

Alex leaned up and began to kiss John’s neck. He was horny, in the need for something, and John’s neck was right there, so fucking kissable. John tilted his head to the side and groaned lightly, letting Alex get more into the kissing. Alex nipped and sucked, leaving light marks against the skin. He was slowly able to push John back on the couch, straddling him as he kissed his neck. 

John’s hands roamed Alex’s body, untucking his shirt and scratching along his back. John had jagged nails. They were short, but not long by any means. John just let them grow until they broke off. He kept his pointer and middle finger on his right hand short though. It’d be awkward, he always thought, to be fingering someone and then accidentally scrape them up. 

They two of them began grinding on each other, finding any point of contact to rut their hips against like bitches in heat. John’s hand gripped Alex’s ass, moaning lightly as he rubbed his crotch up against Alex’s thigh. Alex kept kissing John’s neck, trying not to come as he ground into John’s stomach. He could feel John’s sharp and jagged nails, scratch across his back. Any pain from that was evened out with the way John’s voice sounded in his ear.

So soft and gentle. John was never soft and gentle, so when his throat got clogged with the sounds of pleasure, Alex took the time to relish in it. He liked making John feel good. He liked hearing John call his name softly. Sometimes, at night, Alex would go into the bedroom and suck John’s cock, listening to him wake up to the feeling of Alex’s mouth. 

Sometimes, Alex got so horny that it was like being bored. He needed to have sexual contact with something beside his right hand. It’s like eating non-stop before you realize that you’re just thirsty. When John was far from the mood of giving Alex what Alex wanted to give, Lafayette’s apartment was always free, and if Lafayette walked into his bedroom to see Alex, splayed out and naked, ready to be taken, fucked into the mattress, anything to satisfy that angry hard cock of his, then no further prompting was needed.

John finished, and Alex finished about a minute later, then laid there on John’s chest, breathing heavily. They were both basking in the euphoria of the orgasm, John running his fingers through Alex’s hair and keeping his hand on Alex’s bony ass. Alex thought it was probably the kindest John had ever been with him after something like this. Alex decided to close his eyes and let himself be drowsy. He wondered how long he and John would lay like this before John pushed Alex off and onto the floor. 

That next morning, Alex woke up before John. John’s hand was still in his hair, but his other arm had fallen off the couch. Alex pushed himself off of John and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. He was surprised to see Martha already sitting at the table. She was wearing one of John’s t-shirts. It went down to the middle of her thighs, and Alex was sure she had nothing under it. 

“Morning,” she groaned.

Alex nodded. “Coffee?”

“Fuck no.” Martha held up her water cup. “Unless you got tea.”

“We do.” Alex found a box of chamomile he always kept around for hangovers and then filled up the tin pot he used to make the coffee water with more than usual. He leaned against the counter, waiting for it to boil as Martha sipped her water. She looked so skinny.

“Are you hungry?” Alex asked. 

Martha shook her head.

“You look hungry.” 

She laughed, glancing over her shoulder. “You know, John and I used to not eat so our siblings could. We’d go for days because of what little food we had, we wanted it to go to our younger siblings.”

Alex nodded.

“And look at them.” Martha shook her head. 

“People are shit,” Alex muttered. “Family especially.”

“Siblings? Shitty parents?”

Alex suddenly didn’t want to call his mom shitty. “I dunno. Bad circumstances.”

Martha nodded, leaning back. “How’s John been doing? He never tells me. He’s still the oldest, so he does his best to protect me from the shit he pulls. Seems to forget we’re both adults.”

Alex shrugged. “I dunno, bout as good as he could be.”

“Ah.” Martha sipped her water, then thanked Alex as he set down her tea. “So, Vietnam, huh? I had a boyfriend who fought in Vietnam.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex sipped his coffee. “He make it out?”

“Barely.” Martha shook her head. “Fucked up war. Ruined a lotta good men, killed a lotta great ones.” She raised her glass a bit. “S’pose none of that mattered too much though to the people who weren’t fighting.”

Alex nodded.

“Are you and my brother like fucking for real? Or is it just a casual thing?”

“It’s a casual thing.” 

“Good.” Martha stood up, stabilizing herself on the table for a second. “I gotta piss.”

“Bathroom’s right through there.” Alex pointed at the door to the bathroom. 

Martha patted Alex’s cheek. “You’re a doll and a dear.” 

Martha closed the bathroom door just as John walked into the kitchen. He poured himself some coffee and leaned against Alex a bit, cradling the mug. Alex let out a deep breath, tilting his head back and looking over at John. John still had hickeys on his neck, little spots of broken blood vessels, bruises. The look suited John, really. Alex had never seen John without a good array of hickeys, so he could barely imagine the man with a clean neck. In fact, he couldn’t imagine John any other way than what he was. 

“Morning, Johnny,” Martha smiled, coming back out into the kitchen.

“Martha.” John smiled softly, ruffling his sister’s hair. “You sleep alright?”

She shrugged. “Coulda been worse. Had some weird fucking dreams. 

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you need to shower today?” 

Martha sat back down, closing her eyes for a second like her head became foggy while she was up. “Uh, yeah, probably.”

John went into the fridge and got her some old Chinese food. “Come on, eat up.”

“Fuck off,” Martha mumbled. 

John handed her a plastic fork and flipped her off. “Eat, or I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Martha gave John a dirty look but realized he could very easily manhandle her into an ER and get a feeding tube shoved down her throat, so she began to eat the Chinese food. Alex felt awkward, being in the room for that conversation, and for the way, Martha glared at John as she chewed each bite thoroughly.

“Alright,” John muttered. “Martha, how long you think you gonna be here?”

“Few days, three or four.”

John hummed, thinking. “Yeah, alright. That’ll be okay.”

Martha took another tentative bite. “Did you two have a nice night?”

John rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Alex snickered a bit, earning him a look from both John and Martha. He felt like he was intruding. This was a family reunion in some fucked up sort of way, so he decided to do what he felt best fit the energy of the area. Leave.

“I’m gonna head over to Laf’s,” Alex decided, downing the rest of his coffee. 

“Alright.” John gave Alex a look like he was thankful for Alex’s competence and would repay him with a blowjob or something. 

“Lemme go get dressed.” Alex left the kitchen and changed into some clean clothes, and then grabbed his wallet and left the house. He took the subway to Lafayette’s, picking up some bagels on the way for them, and one for Laf’s roommate, since he didn’t want to be rude. Alex always hated filling Jewish stereotypes, he really did. He barely filled just normal Jewish mannerisms, but Alex would run through rush hour traffic for a good bagel. His Rabbi, back when he attended synagogue, always used to say that a group of crows was called a murder, and a group of Jews was called an argument. He was right, too. 

Alex got to Lafayette’s place and knocked on the door a few times. Laf’s roommate, Hercules, opened it up. Hercules was nice enough, but quiet, lived his own popcorn life. He wasn’t Lafayette’s roommate the way Alex was John’s roommate. They didn’t really have much of a relationship, platonic or otherwise. But they were friends, and Herc paid rent on time, so Lafayette made sure to keep the peace. 

“Hey, Laf around?”

“He went out last night.” Herc’s Nigerian accent was a strong one, and it reminded Alex of the mothers of a few of his high school friends. He always hung out with the immigrants because he was an immigrant. A few had come from African countries, Nigeria, Sudan, Morocco. They talked in a sharp New York accent usually, but their parents spoke in an African accent. 

“Oh yeah?”

Herc nodded. “He’ll be back soon though. You’re free to hang out.”

Alex smiled and stepped into the apartment. Herc went back to cooking breakfast, and Alex went into Lafayette’s room, laying down on the bed. Lafayette’s walls were decorated in Playboy posters, his bed was a futon, and there were books stacked high all over the floor, most of them in French. Alex managed to find one in English though and picked it up, flipping through it. 

Half an hour later, Lafayette walked through the door in golden parachute pants and a black mesh shirt. He looked like he’d been up all night, and had an air of pot coming off of him. Alex couldn’t help but laugh at him a bit. He looked ridiculous, and God, Alex loved it. 

“Ah, sweet Alexander.” Lafayette chuckled, peeling off his shirt. “I’m afraid I cannot give you what you seek.”

“I’m not seeking anything,” Alex chuckled, laying back. “Just wanted to get out of the house. John’s sister is over.”

“Ah, then you made the right decision by leaving.” Lafayette shook his head. “They are either going to get very high, or they are going to fight very loudly. Either one is never very fun.” He stepped out of his pants and laid down next to Alex. “Feel free to watch TV or something, read. I think I may fall asleep.”

Alex nodded, pulling Lafayette closer so they were cuddling. “That’s alright. I’m tired too.”

Lafayette chuckled against Alex’s chest, his eyes already closed. “I think I quite like having you here.”

Alex smiled, kissing the top of Lafayette’s head, before closing his eyes. They both drifted off to sleep together, the sound of the city just waking up filling the room.


	19. Androgynous

"Let's go to a fag bar with my friends tonight," John suggested, sitting down at the kitchen table next to Alex.

"What friends?" Alex asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Marty, Eliza, Lafayette." John smiled, folding his hands in front of him in a satisfying sort of way, before quickly wiping his nose with his sleeve. "I wanna go. I'm bored, I'm antsy."

"I think you're just on coke," Alex replied.

John nodded. "That too. But come on, let's do it, huh? Why not? It's not like you have any plans tonight, do you?"

Alex shook his head. He didn't have plans tonight. He didn't have plans all week. He hadn't had plans all last week. He'd been in a bit of an emotional rut lately, and he thought John knew it. John never really knew what to do though, when he came home to see Alex lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with tears on his face. Most of the time, Alex wasn't sure if he was actually crying. Most of the time, Alex was just tired. He had been tired for a week now.

John sighed, nodding. "Come on, you depressed bastard, shower or douche, whatever you need to be ready for tonight. We're leaving in a few hours.

Alex had just woken up, but it was also five in the afternoon. Living with John had made him realize how time was nothing more than a man-made concept. Days of the week, hours, minutes, months, none of it was real. It made him want to farm something. He wondered if he could grow onions in the apartment.

He took a shower and sat in it for about an hour before finally washing his hair. He finished up his shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and going into the bedroom. He dried off and laid back down, staring up at the ceiling. He felt lonely and tired. He wanted to go back to bed. He wanted to do nothing. He wished John hadn't pawned his gun.

Alex didn't get dressed until John yelled at him a bit.

"Come on," John huffed in an annoyed voice. "You've been nothing but a depressed bastard all week, and I'm sick of it. It's like I don't have a roommate anymore, just some slime that cries all over my shit. If I wanted that I'd start shitting on the kitchen table. Get up, we're doing something."

Alex groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"Fuck off, you could have it worse."

Alex flipped him off.

"Come on, Alex." John laid down next to Alex, groaned and shook him a little bit. "I'm so fucking bored."

"You could just go alone."

"That's no fun."

Alex looked over at John with tired eyes. "I think I hate you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

John smiled and planted a wet kiss on Alex's cheek, then jerked his cock off a couple of times before standing up. "Come now, you're just gonna get more depressed and more annoying. I'll kick you out if you stay like this."

"You say that about everything," Alex mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm real fucking picky about who I let stay in my apartment." John threw some underwear at Alex. "Come on, I'm so sick of you being like this. I wanna see you smile and shit. I wanna see you look happy and horny." John picked up a shoe and chucked it at Alex's head, missing by a foot. "Get up, or I'll kick your ass."

"You know John," Alex started, putting on a sarcastic smile and voice as he began to slip on his boxers. "You should really be a therapist because you just make me feel so much better about myself and the world around me." He gave a big sarcastic smile to the man in front of him. "You truly just light up my life."

"What do you want me to do, Alex? Shit's fucked and we're all gonna die sooner or later. All of our parents are dead, your head's fucked from a war we shouldn't have been in, and I shoot up heroin in my free time." John laughed, putting on a white white-beater. "If you're not depressed, you're ignorant."

"Then why can't I be depressed?" Alex muttered.

"You can, just not like that. Engage in the fun parts of depression, like the drugs and the drinking." John sighed, looking through his closet. "I think I'm gonna wear a skirt tonight."

"Do you even own a skirt?" Alex snorted.

John pulled a box down and opened it, and Alex was surprised to see clothing in it. A red dress, a few silk articles of clothing, and then a punk esque skirt, fraying at the bottom with a few patches on it. John closed the box and put it back up on the shelf, then put the skirt on. He wore it like he would just wear regular pants. His trench coat was over it, with his big boots. He looked so... androgynous. He had even trimmed down the stringy beard he wasn't doing a great job at growing.

"Wow," Alex mumbled.

"What?" John scoffed, slipping his switchblade into his pocket.

"Only you can put on a skirt and look just as threatening and imposing as you did before," Alex commented, tucking his white tee shirt into his jeans.

"I always liked skirts." John shrugged, ruffling his hair in the mirror. "I don't wear 'em that often for obvious reasons, but I like 'em."

Alex shrugged and nodded, then the two of them left the apartment. John got looks as they made their way to the bar they were going to, but he didn't notice or didn't care. He wore it well, with confidence.

When they got to the fag bar they were meeting Eliza, Laf, and Marty at, John was greeted with whistles and catcalls by the group. John grabbed his dick and stuck out his tongue, laughing as he stole Marty's beer and took a sip.

"Hey, Alex," Lafayette smiled, taking Alex's hand. "Haven't heard from you in a bit."

"I been busy," Alex lied.

"No you ain't," John scoffed. "You been laying around the house crying. Someone, get a drink in him. He's not gonna be any fun if we don't."

Alex rolled his eyes, but ordered a cosmo and downed it in record time. Eliza looked hot as ever, high waisted shorts and a cropped tee shirt for some punk band. Marty was looking butch as ever, spikes covering her leather jacket. Lafayette was wearing an almost entirely unbuttoned Hawian shirt with pants that looked almost too tight.

"Alright, well, you fuckers, I came here to dance and get really drunk and maybe do some coke if I feel like it, so, may we?"

"I'm gonna have another drink but I'll meet you out there," Alex mumbled, not quite feeling drunk enough to dance.

"Me too," Lafayette decided, sitting on a stool next to Alex.

John gave a look between the two of them, and then shrugged it off and left. Lafayette ordered two beers for the two of them and took Alex's hand, playing with it a bit. The club was loudish, music was playing, but they were close enough to talk. Lafayette sipped his beer, letting his other hand fall from Alex's hand to Alex's thigh. Their faces were close enough to where Alex could smell the martini Lafayette had drank earlier.

"You've been sad?" Lafayette started.

Alex shrugged. "Sad ain't the right word."

"What is?"

"Fuck if I know." Alex laughed and took a sip of his beer. Lafayette didn't.

"Is there any reason you were the way you were, and are the way you are?" Lafayette continued, rubbing his thumb against Alex's thigh.

"Just happens. I don't control it."

"Is there anything particular that may help?"

Alex smiled, tilting his head. "You could kiss me the way I like."

"Oh yeah? How do you like me to kiss you?"

"Any way you want to."

John looked over just as Alex and Laf began making out. He frowned, pressing his lips together tightly and clenching his fists a bit. Eliza was already with a partner, but Marty remained with John, so she noticed this. She followed his line of sight to see Alex standing between Laf's legs, doing everything short of grinding.

"Hey, Johnny," she started.

John looked over.

She held up a pack of cigarettes. "You wanna catch a smoke out back?"

John nodded and the two of them made their way through the people and outback. It went almost smoothly, but some twink with a fohawk spilled something pink and sticky onto John and so by the time they got out back, John was muttering about how he hated fags.

"Bold words for a man in a skirt," Marty commented, laughed as she took out to cigarettes and handed one to John.

"Suck a cunt."

"I plan on it." Marty smiled, fluffing up her short curly hair. "You seemed pissed that Lafayette and that army kid were makin' out."

"I don't care, he can do what he wants."

"God, this is why I don't date men." Marty took a long drag from her cigarette. "All of you are fucking stupid, you know that? I'm like 'talk about your emotions for a moment' and you just fuckin'... jack off at me like a fuckin' gorilla."

"Carpet eater," John muttered under his breath.

Marty turned and punched John in the dick.

"What the fuck!" John yelled, grabbing the space between his legs. "God!"

"You deserved it, shit bag," Marty replied, laughing as she took another hit off of her cigarette.

"Maybe, but fuck." John straightened back up. "Gimme some warning next time."

"No, because then you'll flinch."

John huffed. "I don't have any feelings for Alex. He's fucking annoying."

"Alright."

"He is! I don't fucking like him. He's just useful to have around. All he does is mope and jack off and smoke weed like some fucking tea head joybanger. He's fucking stupid too, you know? I gotta explain everything."

Marty rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. You always pull this shit when you're into people."

"I don't get into people," John spat.

"Fuck me in the tit with a bag of assholes." Marty kicked a wall. "This is why I suck pussy in my free time. Look, actually, I don't really care if you spend the rest of your life repressing your emotions. You're a fucked up person, John. It's what you do. I suggested this to maybe see if you wanted to talk about shit, but I should've remembered, you're a cock sucking dick humper who grew up with no real examples of healthy relationships or coping mechanisms. So, you're gonna do this thing where you repress and deny and repress, and I'm gonna get nowhere."

John took a long drag from his cigarette. "Glad we could avoid getting lost in translation."

"Die in a ditch." Marty chuckled and leaned back against the wall with John. "That Eliza chick, she's hot."

"What, you tryna get over Maria?" John asked.

Marty looked down, flicking her cigarette to the pavement. "Yeah."

"Ah, shit, now am I gonna hafta ask you 'bout your feelings and shit?"

Marty hit John's shoulder and snickered. "Fuck off. I'm doing alright. Not shooting up every night, that's for fuckin' sure."

"Fuckin' joybanger."

"Fuck off. I'm a black dyke with short hair and a leather jacket, I might as well fuck off and do drugs too."

"God." John shook his head. "We're gonna die real soon, you know that?"

Marty nodded. "Could be worse."

"S'pose."

There was a quiet moment hanging in the air when both of them just smoked. Marty looked at John, then away again. The sounds of the street and the faint music leaked into the alleyway, but nothing else.

"I'm not fuckin' into him," John muttered.

"Alright."

"I'm not!"

"I believe you!" Marty laughed, holding up her hands.

"Well, you're acting like you fuckin' don't," John pointed out.

"If you had enough certainty that you weren't into Alex, you wouldn't feel the need to defend yourself so strongly against someone who doesn't believe you," Marty pointed out.

"I'm gonna rip your clit out through your back molar," John threatened.

"I'm gonna fuck your mom."

"Mom's dead."

Marty tilted her head back and laughed. "How is it that all our parents either fuckin' hate our guts or are six feet under, huh? My momma beat the shit outta me before kickin' me out, your momma's dead." She shook her head. "Fuckin' stupid, all of it."

John nodded. "Yeah, for fuckin' real."

Marty looked at John. "If you're into him, I won't tell anyone."

"Fuck off."

Back inside, Lafayette and Alex were dancing with each other. Unfortunately, that was interrupted when a fight broke out. Of course, Alex wanted to see, and of course, John was involved. He had come back in from talking to Marty and immediately started hitting on a twink he knew had a boyfriend, then proceeded to get into a fight. John needed the adrenaline rush, needed to get that back molar that had been wiggling for a while completely knocked out. He was kicked out of the bar, and the molar was left on the floor in a little puddle of blood.

"Leave it to John to get us kicked out of every fag bar on the lower east side," Lafayette laughed as they left.

John grabbed Lafayette's face and kissed him, then laughed. "Oh, baby, we're gonna go al the fag bars in the lower west side next year."

Lafayette spit out some of John's blood. "You lose a tooth?"

John smiled, spitting out more blood. "Of course I did, is it a fight without losing a tooth?" He laughed as they walked down the street together. Marty put her arm around Eliza in a friendly way, and Eliza returned the action. John was laughing hysterically like he had just won the lottery. "Let's go steal some shit."

"What would we steal at nine at night?" Eliza called out.

"A car."

Alex looked at Lafayette, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up," Lafayette muttered. "Only do that when I wanna impress a date."

"When's the last time you stole a car?"

"When's the last time we went on a date?"

Alex smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Let's go back to your place," Marty suggested to John. "Booze, drugs, porn, all the good stuff's at your apartment."

"Perfect." John smiled as they started to head in that direction.

By the time they got there, Alex realized how tired he was. John had energy though, so when they got into the apartment, he put on some porn and handed out beers and tea. Alex lit up a joint and sat on the couch, trying to keep his eyes open. He hadn't been up that long, but he was tired again. Sometimes, drinks and a few friends couldn't kick him out of his rut. Sometimes he just needed to ride it out.

"You alright?" Lafayette asked.

"Just tired."

"When'd you wake up?"

"I dunno, a couple of hours ago."

Lafayette nodded, thinking. "John looks like he's gonna be hosting all night."

Alex nodded, yawning.

"In an hour, I'm gonna say I gotta go." Lafayette looked around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned into Alex. "How about you come with me? We can sleep, and if all you wanna do is mope, I'll mope with you."

Alex smiled. "I'd like that."

Lafayette chuckled. "Oh yeah? Would you?"

"Yeah."

"C'mere." Lafayette pulled Alex into a kiss, smiling sweetly.

"Are you two fags done being fags?" John groaned, leaning back in the dirty armchair. "I'd like to remind you that there're other things to do besides suck face on the couch all night."

Lafayette laughed and flipped John off.

An hour went by, and soon enough, Lafayette stood up stretching. "Alright, I'm gonna head out. I have a long day of whatever the fuck I want tomorrow."

Alex stood up. "I'm gonna go with him."

"Wait what?" John got up and followed Alex to the door. "Hey, why?"

"Just, tired. You're gonna be hosting for a bit. I wanna sleep."

"You slept all day."

Alex looked at Lafayette, asking for a bit of privacy without saying a word. Lafayette stepped out of the apartment, so Alex continued. "I know, I'm just, I'm tired."

John gave an almost nervous chuckle. "Not moving out on me, are you, Hamilton?"

Alex shook his head. "I'm not. Really."

"You sure?"

Alex nodded.

John pressed his lips together and touched Alex's arm. "Well, you'll be back tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, I will."

John swallowed hard, trying to hide a pained look with a smile. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Alex nodded.

"Hey." John pulled Alex into a small kiss. "Don't forget about me."

"Really, I'm just gonna sleep," Alex snorted.

"Alright, bye."

Alex opened the door, waving a bit. "Bye." He stepped out and then linked arms with Lafayette, smiling lightly. "Alright, shall we?"


	20. Dirty Blvd.

“My supplier is making a delivery today.”

Alex looked over at John, who was now sitting next to him. “Oh yeah?”

John nodded. “Yeah.”

“You need me to get outta here?”

“Stay.” John looked over at Alex. “You might be useful.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” John laughed, pushing Alex down onto the couch and kissing his neck. “You know, I was married once.”

“No you weren’t,” Alex scoffed.

“I was!” John laughed, propping himself up a bit. “She was from the Dominican Republic, a junky just like me.”

“When was this?” Alex asked. “I’m sorry, I still don’t believe you. How have we been living together for what, about a year now? And you haven’t told me you were married? Do you have a wedding photo or something?”

John nodded, getting up. He found an old photo album and flipped through it a bit, stopping on a page and sitting down next to Alex again. Alex was, really, shocked. There, on the page, was a photo of John in a tux that looked about a size too big, with a woman in a cheap thrift store wedding dress. John looked significantly younger, but still just as skinny as he did now. His hair was shorter though, and his face was clean shaved.

“What the fuck,” Alex muttered. “How were you married? John, tell me about this. What the fuck is…” Alex shook his head. “What?”

“I had just moved up to New York, she was a prostitute in my building. We got married, and then we stopped being married about two months later.”

“Oh yeah? What happened?” Alex mused.

“Slept with Eliza,” John snorted. “Nah, my old lady, loved her to death but didn’t really like her so much. Then she got pregnant, and that was just, I didn’t wanna deal with that, so we gotta divorce and she moved to LA or something like that.”

“Wait, do you have a kid?”

“Yeah, send him five bucks on his birthday. Probably all I woulda done if I had been around.” John snorted. “I’m sure he’ll look me up someday.”

Alex paused, staring at John. “You are a man of a million mysteries.”

John smiled his Cheshire smile, leaning in and kissing Alex. “Ain’t I?” He sighed a bit. “You know, sometimes I think you’re my only real friend.”

“Shut up,” Alex scoffed, leaning into John a bit. “You got plenty of friends.”

“Yeah, but I ain’t got none like you.” John gently touched the side of Alex’s face, thinking. “Ain’t none would do the shit you do for me.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Alex mused.

“Like sticking around.” John looked down at the couch for a second, and Alex picked up on the genuine tone of the conversation. “You just, I dunno. Ain’t no one ever really stuck around for me this long, not even my sister.” He chuckled, looking back up at Alex. “I just… I dunno. I’m being a bitch.”

“Yeah, you kinda are.” Alex snickered, then pressed a kiss to John’s temple. “That’s alright though. I get what you’re trying to say, even if you are gunking it up with all that feelings crap.”

John laughed, bumping his head against Alex’s.

Alex leaned back against the armrest and John came with him, laying between his legs and resting his head on Alex’s stomach. Alex put his hand in John’s greasy hair, curling in his fingers. “What time is he coming over?”

John shrugged, leaning into Alex’s hand. “Another hour maybe? I dunno.”

Alex nodded, continuing to play with John’s hair. John didn’t have particularly nice hair to touch. It was often greasy, or dry, or a mixture of the both somehow. Sometimes, when they laid like this, Alex would check John for head lice. He had always been good at checking for head lice. On the boat ride over from an English port, the ship collectively got head lice, so he and his mother dealt with that after they got off. His mother just cut his own hair off, deciding it wasn’t worth the fuss, but she wouldn’t cut hers. So, Alex, every night for about two weeks after that boat ride, would check his mother for lice. If she had it, he’d run down to the corner store and get mayonnaise, and then wash the bedding. If she didn’t, then it was a good night.

John didn’t have head lice though. Just dandruff and split ends. Alex was grateful for that because lice were a pain in the ass to deal with, and he’d rather just have a dirty roommate than a bug-infested one.

“Have you ever had an STD?” John asked.

Alex thought for a little bit. “Yeah, I got gonorrhea in the army. Between the whore houses and the casual sex though, I’m lucky it was only that. A few guys I knew got HIV, and there was a nasty string of herpes that went around.”

“No condoms in the army?” John mused.

“Nah. Sometimes we could get our hands on a sandwich bag.”

“Fucking disgusting.”

Alex laughed, running his fingers through John’s hair. “What about you?”

“I probably hold the world record for chlamydia.” John snickered. “I think since you’ve moved in, I’ve gotten it like, seven times.”

“Have you and I-”

“Sucked each other off while I had it? No, of course not. I may be a shit person, but I wouldn’t knowingly give you an STD or some shit like that. There were a few handjobs, but you can’t get chlamydia on your hands I don’t think.”

“Nah, you can’t.” Alex sighed. “You think you’d ever get married again?”

“Probably not.” John tilted his head up a bit. “You?”

Alex shrugged. “I think I’d like to get married. I dunno. Never really had a real relationship in my life, wouldn’t even know how to do it correctly.” He laughed.

“What about Lafayette?”

“To marry?”

“No, no, just like, you two seem kinda, oh, I dunno, like, close and shit.”

Alex nodded. “I guess. I dunno, I think we’re just fooling around. Lafayette likes having someone to be sweet on, I think.”

“He does.”

Alex hummed a bit, thinking. John felt skinny, laying there on top of him. Of course, John always felt skinny. Nothing was new. Alex often wished John would kick the junk habit and gain some weight. To Alex, John could’ve fallen into that picture of his mother right after the camps were liberated, and not looked a single bit out of place.

Sometimes, John got his meals from dumpsters behind restaurants. That was when selling had barely covered rent. Alex usually would rather go hungry before digging around in people’s half-finished meals, but when it got bad, if John brought him half-eaten clam sauce pasta with some herbs and cigarette ash on it, Alex didn’t say anything. Just ate. The food, Alex thought, was the biggest difference between his life before and after John. He went from TV dinners to dumpster diving and bodega sandwiches with American cheese slices that were always six months out of date.

It was alright though. Somehow, between the broken cold nights where the heat would be shut off because the building owner didn’t pay the bill, and between the odd jobs and late nights, Alex found himself. Alex found himself enjoying a life with risk much more than one without. The unemployment that once brought him to put the barrel of a gun between his teeth was now no longer a thought in his mind. Somehow, Alex felt free.

Alex felt happy.

When the end part of that hour began to approach, John began to get nervous. Alex knew something with the man was off but didn’t say anything, just let John lay out a few beers, get some cash. He handed Alex a blunt and told him to puff it down. Alex followed the instructions, letting his body relax. John seemed to be doing the opposite, looking more and more panicked as the minutes passed. Alex wanted to ask why, but John didn’t seem in the mood to talk about his emotional turmoil.

“Is your supplier mean?” Alex asked.

“He’s a dick, but he’s great.”

“Are you on coke?”

“Nah.”

Alex nodded, thinking for a little bit. “You want me to suck you off?”

John got a real guilty look on his face as if he was the one who killed Alex’s mother. “You’d do anything for me, right?” He sat down next to Alex. “If I asked?”

Alex nodded. “Why not?”

“Would you die for me?”

Alex was quiet, barely grasping at the question.

John leaned in and kissed Alex’s neck. “I’d die for you. I’d kill for you.” His hands gently touched Alex’s thighs. “I’d kill myself if anything ever happened to you, if you left me. I would, I’d kill myself. I’d take a gun to my head.”

“John,” Alex mumbled, not liking where the conversation was headed.

“You promise you won’t leave, baby?” John’s voice was so sweet, and Alex couldn’t see the guilt on his face.

“Yeah, of course,” Alex mumbled.

John kissed Alex’s cheek. “I think I love you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re right.” John smiled. “But I do really like you.”

“I like you too, John Laurens.” Alex leaned in and kissed John’s lips. The kiss might’ve led somewhere if someone hadn’t pounded on the door a few times.

John shot up, wiping sweaty palms on his pants. He looked at Alex, then walked to the door, opening it. In walked a broad man, a large build, with tattoos and a shadow of hair on his head. He looked unamused and tired almost. He had a duffle bag with him, and it looked full. Alex noted scars from bullet wounds and stabs on the man’s body. They were visible since he was only wearing a wife-beater to cover his torso.

“Hey, George,” John nodded.

“Who’s the popcorn?”

“That’s Alex.”

Alex waved.

“Why’s he here?”

“Because.” John took some shit off of the kitchen table and George set the duffle bag down, taking out some stuff. They talked quietly for a bit, too quiet for Alex to hear, so he didn’t listen. He laid back on the couch, smoked his weed, and stared off into space. He let his attention fall to the ever-growing spot of black mold. Some people say black mold is bad for you, but Alex hadn’t experienced any harmful side effects yet, so he just ignored it.

His attention was called back when George’s voice became loud and threatening. Well, not loud. He wasn’t yelling. But he was now speaking at a volume to which everyone in the apartment could hear.

“This ain’t enough cash, Laurens,” he growled.

“George, come on.”

“You know I don’t do credit.” George took a step closer to John. “This ain’t enough, Laurens. I don’t like it when people waste my time.”

Alex had never fought a drug lord. In his twenty-nine-ish years of life, he had found himself staying out of situations where drug lords would want to fight him. Truthfully, Alex had never met a drug lord. There was a time in his life where he thought John was a drug lord, but he was wrong. John wasn’t even a drug duke. He was more like a drug bourgeois. Just one step above the peasant.

“You can do whatever you want to him if you let it slide,” John spat out, pointing at Alex.

This caused Alex to sit up, looking at the both of them. “Excuse me?”

“He’s bony,” George pointed out.

“He hasn’t gotten dicked in weeks.” John took a step closer to George. “Think about how that’ll feel.”

“Hey, hold on.” Alex stood up and walked over. “I am not a currency.”

“Yes, you are.” John grabbed Alex’s arm, putting on the face of a kicked dog. “Come on, baby. You said you’d do anything for me. I thought you meant it.”

“I did, John, but I just-”

“Baby, come on.” He touched Alex’s hand.

Alex was quiet but gave a curt nod.

“He was an army kid, you know,” John started up again, looking at George. “He’ll put up a fight if you make him.”

George grabbed Alex by the shoulder and pulled him out a bit, looking him up and down. Alex felt like his mother. He felt like his mother when Nazi soldiers came and decided whether she could work or just be killed off. Alex didn’t like the way George’s hands felt on him. They were rough and too strong. It was beginning to hurt his shoulder.

“Fine,” George decided, looking at John. “But never again.”

“I know, I know,” John muttered. He leaned into Alex, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Be good for me, okay sweetheart?”

Alex didn’t know what he wanted to do at that moment, but punching John in the mouth seemed like a good option. Before he could really think his options through, George was pulling him to John’s bedroom and closing the door.

Alex tried to block out the next forty minutes that went by. He tried to go somewhere else. He wondered if this was how his mother felt when her pretty blue skirt, the one with little flowers embroidered onto it, was shoved into her mouth. He wondered if the blood from her breaking teeth reached her tongue before they were done with her. He wondered how closely paralleled the treatment she got from the Nazis that day and the treatment he was getting from Goerge were.

If she was looking down at him from wherever right now, he hoped she was covering her eyes. Alex felt sick, like he was mocking his mother’s experiences. She was brutalized and enslaved, and he was what? Talked into this by his junky roommate? He at least had a choice. But he didn’t, did he? Alex kept wondering, as those forty minutes went by, what would’ve happened if he had said no to John. He wondered if he would still be where he was.

George left when he was done, but Alex stayed in the bed a bit longer, rubbing his face and trying to calm down the pain in his back. He felt angry. John groomed him for this. Between telling him to stay, sweet-talking him, all that. John primed Alex to be put in this exact situation. Alex wondered if he hated John for it. Alex wondered if he could hate John.

When he finally got out of bed, he got dressed and walked into the kitchen. John was leaning against the counter, waiting for the heroin to cook. He set down his coffee upon seeing Alex.

Had Alex just stood there, John might’ve stammered out some half-assed apology and that would’ve been that. Instead, Alex decided that that was _not_ how he wanted things to go. So he walked up to John, pulled his arm back, and punched the man as hard as he could. John hit the floor, and blood poured out of his nose. Alex curled his toes and kicked John in the face, leaning blood on his sock. He then kicked John in the stomach and dumped the rest of his coffee onto the man.

John stayed down. Alex stood over him for a second, making sure John wasn’t gonna try any shit, then turned and walked into the living room. He lit up another blunt and sat down, staring up at the black mold on the ceiling ago.

“If you _ever_ do that to me again,” he started, loud enough so John could hear. “I’m moving out.”

John stumbled up. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

“No, you’re not.” Alex looked over into the kitchen where John was holding a dishcloth to his nose. “You planned this whole thing out.”

John was quiet.

“Fucking ridiculous.” Alex shook his head and took another hit off of his joint. “I oughtta really fuck you up, you know that?”

John was still quiet.

Alex let out a sigh and continued smoking.

A few minutes later, John sat down on the couch in dry clothes. Alex looked over, but then looked away and refused to acknowledge John any further.

“Come on, Alex, it’s just business.” John leaned into Alex. “I would’ve done the same for you.”

“Drink bleach,” Alex huffed.

“Baby, don’t be like that.”

“I’m not your baby.”

John groaned, letting his head fall onto Alex’s shoulder. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Look, I’m just tryna make it. If we didn’t get that shit, we would have gone hungry, maybe missed rent. I don’t want that to happen to us.” John took Alex’s hand. “I’m sorry you got hurt, but it was a sacrifice we both had to make.”

“You didn’t make a sacrifice,” Alex spat.

“Baby, I did. You think I like seeing you like this?” John touched Alex’s cheek. “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby. Makes my heart hurt.” John kissed Alex’s neck. “I didn’t wanna do that anymore than you did, but baby we had to.”

Alex shrugged John off a bit.

“Come on, sugar.” John pulled Alex closer to him. “You know I’m sorry. I don’t wanna see you hurt. Come on, please don’t be mad. You’re breaking my heart.” John kissed Alex’s cheek again. “You really gonna stay mad? After all that we’ve been through.”

Alex paused, then shook his head.

“There we go. See, I knew-”

Alex cut John off. “I mean it though, if you ever put me in that position, ever again, I’m leaving. I have other places I can stay.”

“Oh, come on, baby. Ain’t no one gonna treat you look I do.”

Alex stood up with a shower in mind. “Yeah, I know, John. Maybe that’s a good thing.”


	21. No one lives forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when y'all leave long ass comments like that shit is so nice. I have a couple that I've just left in my inbox so I can read them whenever

John and Alex were a little shitfaced, coming back from the bar below their apartment. Usually, when it came to drinking with just the two of them, a six-pack and a seat on the couch was good enough. The night before though, they had gone down to the bar and spent most of the night drinking together, talking to people they had never talked to before, getting drunk, and being troubled. Around five am, John bought a bottle of whiskey off the shelf and both he and Alex stepped outside, leaning up against the wall and drinking it.

They talked for hours, just about the little things in life. John talked a lot about his mother, and any good memories he had with her. He talked about the way she would sing and play with his hair. Alex listened to John ramble about her, listened to him talk about how the funeral was a bleak affair, and how he had wished things could’ve been different for her. John talked about how when he was a kid, when his mom was pregnant with Martha, they would lie in bed together and John would tell her about the house he was gonna buy so both of them could live in it and be happy. As John got older, the dream shifted only a little. He still wanted to buy a house to live in with his mother, but this time, he wanted her to be clean.

Alex talked about his brother. He talked about how he was older, a bit meaner, but still kind. Alex talked about how he would protect Alex from their mother when she was going through one of her flashbacks. Alex’s mother had Alex when she was twenty, but she had James when she was seventeen, a year after the camps got liberated. No one could have babies that first year, no one. The second year there was a boom though. And that’s when James was born. Alex did miss his brother, but sometimes he was glad James never made it too far in life. If he hadn’t gotten killed then, it would’ve only been a matter of time.

They walked back into the apartment, and jumped at the sight of a skeleton on their couch, dressed in a mesh dress with bra and panties under it. Upon closer observation, it was Martha. She was smoking a cigarette, her fried black hair tied up in a bun above her head. She looked just as skinny, maybe skinnier, than the last time Alex had seen her. She had a small smile on her chapped lips. She was wearing lipstick, but it was peeling off with the chapped skin. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-nine, she was definitely younger than Alex, but the skin on her stomach and arms was loose and thin. It was like her body belonged to a dying seventy-year-old woman, and her face belonged to someone who saw death and laughed. She always scared Alex, the way she looked. With the mesh dress, Alex could see just how skinny she was. It was disturbing.

“Martha.” John shook his head a bit, making sure she wasn’t a hallucination. “Hey.”

She stood up. She looked only a little high. She had a cigarette between her lips. Her knees were bruised and dry. “Hey, sweetheart.”

John took a breath. “You need a place to crash?”

She chuckled. “You haven’t been home all night, have you?”

John shook his head. “Would you put some fucking clothes on? Jesus Christ.”

Martha tugged on the end of her mesh dress, smiling a bit. “People should know what they’re buying.”

“You want some coffee?” Alex offered.

Sober, Martha seemed to have a bit more of a head on her. “Yeah, sugar. Let’s all go sit.”

Alex put a pot on the stove and got out the French press. John got some food out of the fridge and put it down on the table. Martha didn’t touch it. She and John had a staredown as the coffee was made, and it put an air of discomfort in the room. Alex wanted to leave, but he decided not to. He set down the coffee and Martha took a long sip, sighing.

“You know,” she started, setting the cup down. “Coffee works as a natural laxative.”

“Not like you even got anything to shit.”

She laughed. “Maybe I don’t.”

“Why’re you here?”

Alex took a sip of his coffee and began to count the fake tiles on the floor of the kitchen. It was adhesive, made to look like tiling. It came up on the sides, occasionally tripping Alex up. It was dirty. John never cleaned, and Alex didn’t like to clean. There was dried blood on the floor, and Alex was just noticing it. He wondered whose it was.

“You ain’t been home all night, hm?”

John shook his head.

“You missed a pretty important call.”

John crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged.

“Dad’s dead.”

An eyebrow raised. “Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Painless and in his sleep?”

“Painful, choked on his own tongue blood, hadn’t slept in two days.”

John smiled. “Good.”

“You guys are fucking sick,” Alex laughed. “I mean, like, no empathy? I know he was fucked up, but he is dead now.”

“John tried to shoot him, once,” Martha chimed. “Well, technically, he did shoot him. Just didn’t kill him.”

“How’d that whole thing go?” Alex asked.

“Hit his shoulder, got the shit beat outta him.” Martha laughed a bit. “But he’s dead now. So, John, the funeral is in two weeks. Are we going?”

“Yeah, I still gotta piss on his grave.” John laughed. “I do kinda… I wanna know how Jem and Mary are. I mean, just to make sure they’re alright.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Nah.”

“God, you’re so full of shit.” Martha shook her head. “The fuck they ever for us? You woulda thought Jem woulda loved Henry a bit more, you woulda thought they woulda loved us a bit more, and look at it! Look at where they are, and where we are!”

“Marth, come on.” John shook his head. “It’s different for you and me. I’m the oldest.”

“Oh, boo fucking hoo, I’m the oldest so I care about everyone.” Martha shook her head. “Fuck off with all that shit, John.”

John sighed. “Whatever.”

Alex stood up, his chair screeching. “You know, I think I’m gonna… go see Eliza. Yeah, I haven’t visited Eliza in a while. I’m gonna go see her.”

John pulled out a few dollars and shoved them into Alex’s hand. “Buy her something for me, tell her I love her.”

“I will.”

“Of course you get with a man just like mom,” Martha scoffed, laughing a bit.

“Fuck does that mean?” John scoffed, grabbing Alex’s wrist so he couldn’t leave.

“Fucking passive ass. Moment shit gets real, leaves you.”

“Eat shit and die.”

Martha mimed sucking dick and flipped John off. “Come on, we do seriously gotta discuss funeral arrangements. Travel.”

John let go of Alex’s wrist, and Alex bolted out of the room before he could hear them talking anymore. He did not like the idea of being alone with John and his family, but he prayed John’s siblings were a bit more level headed, maybe less of drug addicts. Alex did buy Eliza a breakfast sandwich from the bodega with John’s money, and then Alex bought one for himself too, since he was hungry.

He got to Eliza’s apartment and knocked on the door a couple of times. A tall woman with dark curly hair and dark skin opened the door, staring him up and down. Alex had never felt smaller.

“Fuck are you?”

Alex shrugged. “I’m Alex.”

“Why are you here?”

“Looking for Eliza.”

The woman paused, then stepped aside to let Alex in. She led him to a door, told him to knock, then lit up a cigarette, and walked into the kitchen. Alex took the two breakfast sandwiches out of his pocket and then knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Eliza’s voice called out.

Alex stepped into her room and smiled. She was sprawled out on her bed, reading. She had a light-colored room, a few clothes on the floor, some nice art on the walls, and just a calm feeling. Alex liked it.

“Hey, chica,” he started. “Gotchu something.”

“You stink of booze.” Eliza smiled, accepting the breakfast sandwich and undoing the paper wrapping. “Thank you, Alexander. What brings you here on a morning like today?”

Alex shrugged, sitting down on Eliza’s bed and kicking off his shoes. “John’s sister is over. They’re sort of fighting”

“Good you left. Stay out of that.” Eliza took a bite of her food and leaned up against Alex. “How you been?”

“I been alright,” Alex nodded. “Just living life. How about you?”

She shrugged. “Could be worse.” She took another bite of her sandwich. “This is good, where’d you get it from?”

“Bodega down the street from John’s place.”

“S’your place too,” Elia pointed out.

“Nah, it’s John’s place. It being my place would imply it feels like home to me.” Alex snickered.

Eliza let out a soft sigh, thinking. “What’s up with you and Laf?”

Alex shrugged. “We’re casual.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Nah, there’s something.” Alex nudged Eliza’s shoulder, chuckling a bit. “Come on now. Let’s hear it. Spit it out.”

“It ain’t my business to say!” She defended, laughing as she put her hands up. “Come on now, Alex. Don’t be stupid.”

“Please, just tell me a little bit. Come on, sugar. Whatcha got?”

“Alright, you didn’t hear it from me, but…” Eliza took a bite of her sandwich. “Lafayette’s feelings towards you might be a little more than casual.”

“Shut up, liar.” Alex rolled his eyes. “You’re a liar.”

“Whatever, you don’t gotta believe me.” Eliza took another bite. “Just don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “What were you reading?”

“The Price of Salt by Clair Morgan,” she smiled. “It’s good. You would like it.”

“I’ll read it,” Alex decided.

“You can have my copy when I’m done,” Eliza offered.

“Thanks.” Alex took another bite of his food, then licked a bit of hot sauce off his fingers. “Who was the chick at the door?”

“Sister.”

“Adopted?”

“Foster. We were all in the same foster homes for a while. I got a third one. She’s probably in her room, smoking weed or something.” Eliza looked at Alex. “You been up all night, huh?”

Alex nodded. “John and I went drinking.”

“How’d that work out for you both?”

Alex laughed. “Great.”

She sighed, popping the last bite of her sandwich in her mouth. “He ain’t hurting you, is he? I mean, I don’t really think of John as violent, but like I said, I wouldn’t put it past him to chain you to a radiator and cut off your legs.”

“Nah, he ain’t. I’d kick his ass if he tried.”

“John’s a wicked fighter.”

“And I killed people for a living at one point in my life.” Alex smiled. “I think I’d be alright.”

“Whatever you say, tiger.” Eliza rested her head on Alex’s shoulder. “What’re your plans for the day?”

“Well, John’s father kicked it, so he and his sister are talking about that. Figured I’d give them the day to do that.”

“Oof.” Eliza sighed. “We could go hang out with Lafayette or something, yeah? Get a meal, lay down on the grass in central park, talk about sex and death.”

Alex nodded, laying down on her bed. “Sounds great. I’m gonna catch a couple of hours first, that alright?”

Eliza nodded, picking her book back up again. “I’ll wake you in a bit.”

He managed a hum, but didn’t reply much more. He was already half asleep, and a bit drunk, so it didn’t take much more to fall asleep.

Alex never dreamed when he was drunk, and that held true this time, but he was in and out, listening to Eliza go about her life. He listened to her get up, and then listened to the shower get turned on. He listened to her come back in, drying off, and then watched her put on makeup through half-opened eyes. He fell back asleep after that, only to awake an hour later to Eliza, shaking him a bit.

“Come on, baby. I got some breakfast made.”

Alex groaned and sat up. “You got any aspirin?”

“Of course we do.” She pulled him up and into the kitchen. Two other women were at the table, eating some food. Alex sat down and Eliza handed him some water and painkillers, which he downed, before serving himself some toast and a bit of eggs.

“Who’re you?” One of them asked, the one who hadn’t answered the door.

“Pegs, Angie, this is Alex.” Eliza sat down. “Alex, this is Pegs, and that’s Angie.”

Alex noted that Angie was the one who opened the door for him, and Pegs smelled like weed. “Hey.”

“You two fucking?”

“Nah.” Eliza sipped her tea. “He’s just a friend.”

“So he’s queer?”

Eliza scoffed. “I don’t fuck every man I know.”

Alex decided not to mention they had fucked before.

“Why’s he here?” Angie asked.

“Lives with John.”

Pegs laughed, pointing at Alex. “There we go. That’s a good excuse to eat our food.”

Alex smiled a bit. Each of Eliza’s sister’s were very different from each other. Pegs was a butch stoner kind of type, with a rasta hat and a tee-shirt that looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. She was rounder, with big eyes and untamed eyebrows. Angie, on the other hand, looked like she had just murdered her husband and written herself as the beneficiary for his life insurance and fortune. Her perfect curly hair was up in a loose bun, and she smoked her cigarettes like they were lucky to have her lips around him. It amused Alex to see the people Eliza called family.

“What’re you guys doing today?” Pegs asked.

“I’ve got work in an hour, I’ll be home around five,” Angelica told them.

“I’m hanging with Alex and Laf for a bit, and then I got a few clients later today.” Eliza looked at Pegs. “You work tonight?”

She nodded, taking a long hit from her blunt. “We got a quinceanera, so you bet I’m gon’ be cooking hella. I’ll bring home leftovers, so I got dinner.”

“Alright, cool.” Eliza took a sip of her coffee, and the table fell into a relative silence. Alex didn’t quite mind it though. It was nice to eat breakfast quietly. He decided, also, that he liked Eliza’s sisters. They were a sense of calm Alex hadn’t felt in a while. Living with John was nice, but chaos got exhausting when it was the norm.

Angie left, and Eliza called Lafayette while Alex hung out in her room, resting his eyes. Eliza quietly whispered in that they were meeting Lafayette at a diner in two hours, and then let Alex sleep a bit more. Alex hated all-nighters. He hadn’t pulled one in a while. Maybe his sleep schedule was utterly fucked, but he always managed to get enough sleep, even if it was at odd hours of the day. He decided that after he, Eliza, and Lafayette parted, he was just gonna go home and sleep.

When Eliza did finally wake him for the diner, he felt a bit better. Hungry though. Eliza put on a jacket and the two of them left, headed down the street for the agreed upon diner. It was just barely on the east side, and Alex had to avoid stepping on a rat as he walked in. It was dirty, the cooks looked mean.

Lafayette was already there and tucked Alex by his side the moment he sat down. Alex wasn’t sure what fight was going on between John and his sister, but he didn’t care. Alex felt happy, sitting two of his closest friends, Lafayette’s arm around him, and Eliza’s smiling face across from him. Alex was still tired, but the taste of bitter coffee and the love from the people around him kept him up.

He decided he was gonna go home with Lafayette that night because there was nothing that sounded better.


	22. Bat Out Of Hell

Alex had never minded traveling by train. He thought it was nice. The light rocking, the land that passed by at such a speed. Philly wasn’t that far away, so he knew the ride was short, but regardless, he leaned against the window and stared at the passing terrain. John has snorted a bit of ketamine with Martha for the ride, so they were both conked out. Alex almost didn’t mind it though. He could sip his coffee in peace, think about what was going to happen.

He had never met, or even talked to, anyone in John’s family, besides Martha of course. He’d heard very little about them, besides the fact that they were dirty backstabbing shit heads with no regard for what John and Martha had done for them, in John’s words at least. John referred to his brother as a popcorn and his sister as a coward. Apparently her husband was beating her. Alex pitied her for that. John said it was a bitter irony that she helped their father and now she was married to a man no better than him. Alex almost prayed that John’s siblings were a bit more normal than John and Martha. He couldn’t handle a week in the same house as four junkies constantly talking about their childhood trauma.

Alex had been writing recently. He didn’t know why, he wasn’t much of a writer before, but he started writing little poems one day and didn’t stop. They weren’t very good, and he knew that, but he liked the feeling of it, writing them. It felt like his thing. So much of his life was John’s life too, the drug dealing, sex, mess of a life, but this wasn’t John’s. This was his.

‘Bees buzz. Little messages. What do they say? Bee things, bee this and bee that. Buzz, buzz. Pollinate and fuck. Buzz buzz.’

Alex tried to write haikus since Eliza said the poems reminded her of haikus, but there were never enough syllables to say what he wanted to say. Apparently, according to Lafayette, the poems were free verse. Alex wasn’t too sure what that meant, but when it came up, at least he could have a name for what he did.

The suitcase that John had stolen for Alex was under Alex’s seat. It had three pairs of jeans and four pairs of shirts in it for the week, along with underwear and socks and other necessities like that. It was an older one, one that didn’t have wheels. It was leather, with leather straps, and scuff marks. Alex had carved his name into the handle, just for safekeeping. He liked it, or at least he thought he liked it. There wasn’t really anything to dislike about it, really. It had a faint smell of roses on the inside from some perfume most likely being spilled in it, and it held all of Alex’s stuff.

John and Martha were still out of it when Alex got up to use the restroom and get some food. Peeing on a train turned out to be harder than Alex expected, and one particularly hard jolt got Alex groaning and grabbing some paper towels. There wasn’t generally food sold on trains, but this one was traveling beyond Philadelphia, so it sold food. Alex bought a small bag of pretzels and a small bag of beef jerky. He ate both in his seat, and then leaned his head against the window and let his eyes droop a bit. He was sure the amount of ketamine John and Martha took was only enough to knock them out for a bit, and he was right. About fifteen minutes until they pulled into the station, the two started to wake up, come back to life.

“Shit, we almost there?” John muttered, stretching.

Alex nodded, his head still pressed up against the window.

John chuckled. “You bored?”

Alex met his eyes, shrugging. “No, just thinking.”

John moved across to sit next to Alex. “Bout what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Alex teased.

“Maybe I would.” John pulled Alex into a kiss, laughing a bit. His hand went to Alex’s thigh and Alex’s hand went over it. John had never feared being openly queer in public. Alex could vaguely see the family in the aisle across from them giving them disgusted looks. John made Alex not care about that. Because John never cared. He kissed who he wanted to kiss, where and when he wanted to kiss them.

“Are you two love birds done?” Martha complained, her voice groggy.

John pulled away from Alex, biting his lip once more before looking at his sister. “Eat ass.”

Martha stuck out her tongue.

“How much longer?” John asked, looking at Alex. “Come on, baby. You must know.”

“Ten, fifteen minutes, I dunno.” Alex nudged John off a bit. “You’re dumb.”

John planted a wet kiss on Alex’s cheek. “Now, when we get there, my brother’s gonna pick us up. Don’t make eye contact with him. It’s best you just… like, I dunno, pretend you aren’t here?”

“Then what’s the point of me being here?” Alex asked.

“Because you’re my boyfriend for the next week, just to piss him off.” John kissed Alex’s lips and then tapped his nose. “Ain’t you, sweetheart?”

“I sure am, hun.” Alex smiled a bit sarcastically.

The last bit of the train ride was quick, and soon enough they were pulling up to the station. John tied his hair back, and then grabbed both his and Alex’s bag, flashing Alex a boy-next-door smile. When John wanted to look like he was in a devoted relationship, he could. It was almost disturbing. Alex sometimes wondered just how many personalities John had hiding in that greasy head of his.

The station in Philadelphia was cleaner than the one in New York. Alex had never really been to Philadelphia, but it seemed like off-brand New York.

“Do you even know what your brother looks like?” Alex asked.

“A douche bag,” Martha snickered. “I’m pretty sure he still has an earring.”

“No, no way.” John scoffed. “We raised him better than that.”

“We didn’t raise him. Also, if we did, we definitely didn’t raise him better than that. John, we’re both one bad drug deal away from homelessness.”

John laughed. “You’re right.” He looked around the station. “Maybe he’s on the street?”

“Yeah, let’s head out.” John walked out of the door and looked around, then laughed. “There he is.”

John had naturally curly hair, and Alex was sure if Martha’s hair wasn’t fried and dead, it would be curly too, but this man has jet black straight hair, slicked back with half a container of Dapper Dan. He was wearing the top half of a suit, with good denim jeans and shiny leather shoes. He looked like John, but if John has any type of sense to get his life together and shower more often and stopped doing drugs.

“Hey, Jammy Mammy,” John smiled.

James frowned and rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

He had a nice car. He popped the trunk and John put in his luggage. Martha sat shotgun, and Alex and John sat in the back. John made a show of rubbing Alex’s thigh. James got out onto the road and turned off the radio.

“John, Martha, and…”

“Alex.”

“Alex.” James nodded. “And how are you in any way related to anyone in my family?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” John smiled. “And I needed him here for emotional support. I just…” John let out a dramatic sniffle and wiped his cheeks. “I can’t believe our wonderful father is gone.”

Martha tilted her head back and laughed. “I’m so sad!”

“Will you two stop? It’s bad enough you didn’t even talk to him before he died. I mean, Alex-”

Alex was fully prepared to tune this entire conversation out, but the moment he heard his name, fear made its way into his heart.

“You wouldn’t have done that to your father, right?” James asked.

“Ha!” John laughed. “Alex’s father was a bastard and a shit head! Jokes on you!”

Alex was glad for John’s impulsiveness and unwillingness to protect his personal childhood traumas.

James let out a long breath of air and turned the radio back on.

John made out with Alex for the majority of the ride, while Martha dry-shaved her legs were a rusty razor and cursed every time she cut herself. She then shaved her arms and convinced John to stick out a leg for her to shave. After that, she got the other leg and then got Alex to give Martha his left shin before they got to the house.

“I’m almost impressed,” Alex complimented. “There’s only a small risk of tetanus I think.”

Martha nodded, tugging at her skirt. “I’m good at dry shaving. I would’ve done my cooch, but that would’ve been weird, and I’m looking forward to using James’ wife’s fancy razors and shaving cream. My lady hasn’t had treatment like that since I dated a lesbian.”

“When did you date a lesbian?” John asked, grabbing the bags.

“Oh, here and there.”

“Can you guys please, just…” James shook his head. “Please, there’s just…” He shook his head. “Can you be normal for one week?”

John smacked Alex’s ass and then stuck his tongue out. “No.”

“You got a nice house, Jemmy, we raised you right,” Martha muttered jokingly.

“You didn’t raise me,” James muttered.

“For the first couple of years, we did.” John smiled and walked inside. It was a nice house. The walls were painted, and the paint wasn't peeling. No water damage, no mold stain on the ceiling that had started dripping something onto the couch, no spotty carpeting littered with needles and jizz stains. Alex had pretty much forgotten what a normal home looked like. Even his friends had some weird shit going on with their apartment. So, being in James’ house was… weird. It wasn’t nice. Alex had grown to think of normal as a trap, so the lack of that homey feeling was off, and weird.

When they stepped into the living room, a woman stood up. She was the youngest out of all of them, barely gracing twenty-four by Alex’s guess. She had a long scar running down the side of her face, and a burn on her neck that went down past her collar. Alex felt so sad for her, and he didn’t really know why. She just looked like the type of person you should feel sad for.

“Mary,” John greeted curtly.

Mary gave a tight-lipped smile.

“Still a punching bag?” John guessed.

Her smile went away.

“John, don’t be a dick,” Alex muttered.

“You like it when I’m mean though,” John pointed out, putting his arm around Alex and nipping his ear.

“Shut up,” Alex muttered, though the affection did bring a small smile to his lips.

“Alright,” James started. “Mary and Martha get the two guest rooms, John, you and your friend-”

“Boyfriend,” John corrected.

James let out a sigh. “You and Alex will stay in the living room. The couch pulls out.”

“The couch and I have our differences in that way,” John snorted. “Don’t you have a kid or something around here? Where is the booger? Haven’t seen him since he got christened.”

“He and my wife are staying with her parents tonight while you guys get settled,” James muttered.

John brushed past Mary and sat down on the couch. “So when are we putting Daddy in the dirt? I brought my finest clothes.”

James’ frown went from bitter to almost sad. “Two days from now. Do you really not care?”

John shook his head. “If I didn’t want the satisfaction of watching him go into the ground, I think I might’ve stayed home.”

Mary started crying, then left the room.

“Jesus Christ, John, can’t you be considerate for once in your life?” James snapped.

John stood up and squared himself up to his younger brother. “Fuck off, just because he got clean and apologized don’t mean I got any need to forgive him for that shit. Why can’t you be more considerate?”

James rolled his eyes. “You are the most self-centered person in the world, Jesus Christ.”

“He makes a point though,” Martha pointed out, struggling to get the buckle of her heel unclipped so she could take them off. Her hands were so shaky.

“You must have a certain body fat percentage to be in this conversation.” James sneered at Martha.

“Oh, you are so full of it,” Martha gasped, standing up. “What, your big fancy lawyer job got to your head? Huh? You ain’t ever gonna be more than the kid who pissed the bed every night until he was thirteen to me.”

“Ha!” John laughed.

They were going at it, and Alex decided he didn’t want to have a part of it, so he backed out of the room. The house was two stories, so he went up to the second floor and began to look around. A guest room that had unpacked luggage in it, a guest room that was empty, a bathroom, a billiards room, which Alex didn’t really think existed anymore, and then the library. Sort of. It wasn’t really that expensive. Alex probably would’ve passed it by if he hadn’t heard Mary crying in it.

Alex walked in and found her in a lounge, knees together, hands covering her face as she cried. Alex felt more than awkward. The woman in front of him went through abuse both in her childhood and her current marriage, and she was currently mourning the man that raped her sister and tortured her brother. But Alex wasn’t a dick, or he didn’t think he was, so he sat down next to Mary and gently rubbed her shoulder.

She straightened up a few seconds after he started doing that, and then wiped running mascara from her cheeks and turned to him. “Who are you?”

“I’m Alex.”

“Alex.” Mary rubbed her head. “Martha or John’s?”

“Hm?”

“Are you Martha or John’s? I can’t… I can’t keep track of who’s with who.”

“Siblings like them, I don’t blame you.” Alex chuckled a bit. “No, no, I’m John’s. Well, I don’t belong to John, but he’s my boyfriend.” Saying that felt weird to Alex. John absolutely was not his boyfriend.

“Alright, yeah, that makes sense. John was always a queer.” She pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, taking a hit.

“Always?” Alex asked out of curiosity.

“Always.” Mary shook her head. “Had his first boyfriend at fourteen, of course the man was old enough to be his father.” She shook her head. “So, what? What fucked you up enough to be with my brother?”

Alex shrugged. “I dunno. Nothing really.”

“He’s not dating you for your looks,” Mary scoffed, looking Alex up and down. “I mean, no offense, but you’re way too average and normal looking. Do you have a dick piercing or something?”

“Last I checked, no.”

“Huh.” Mary looked at Alex again, then took a shaky inhale of her cigarette. “You’re probably a freak.”

Alex stood up. “Least I’m not mourning the guy who raped Martha.”

Mary gave Alex a look. “Fuck do you know about our family?”

“Have you ever talked to John when he’s drunk? I know about everything besides your social security number.” Alex laughed.

“Oh yeah? So you know how John and Martha ditched us at our aunt’s house and left us?”

“They were addicted to drugs and fucked up.” Alex shrugged. “I dunno, if I were in that situation, I wouldn’t have taken over the care of a child either.” He held up his hands. “Look, I’m not gonna fight with you. Maybe I am wrong, and maybe John is wrong, but just… if I had a sister, and someone did what your father did to Martha, I don’t… I wouldn’t exactly mourn his death.”

“He wanted to apologize!” Mary defended. “What about second chances? They didn’t even try to talk to him.”

“I don’t think your dad deserved a second chance,” Alex shrugged. “God knows what else he did to John and Martha. Some people don’t deserve second chances. Some people deserve to just die.”

“You didn’t know him.”

“I don’t feel bad about that, really.” Alex shrugged and left the room. He wandered up to the third floor, and found a chair by the window. It was comfortable, something to lounge onto, so that’s what Alex did. He took a piece of folded paper from his pocket, as well as a pen, and wrote a poem.

‘Hurt people hurt people. Two sides of the same coin. Love the man who stayed, hate the man who left. Virgin pure with blood between her legs. One moon is more than enough.’

Alex laid back and stared at the ceiling. The whole situation differed from laying on the couch at John’s place like this. Alex was pretty sure he missed Lafayette, but he had seen Lafayette less than six hours ago. He had walked with them to the train station, and kissed Alex’s cheek as he said goodbye. Alex picked up his pen and paper again.

‘Touch my hand. Touch my lips. Touch my face. Touch the place between my thighs. I think you would be someone I could wake up to without any regret. I think you could be someone to make me feel like I’m not no one.’

Alex zoned out after that, only zoning back in when John called his name.

“Hey, there you are.” John sat down next to Alex. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah?” Alex mused, shoving the paper and pen back into his pocket.

“Yeah.” John leaned forward and pulled Alex into a kiss. Alex let himself be pulled on John’s lap, let John’s hands explore the seat of his jeans. Alex felt so loosely attached to his physical body, he had for a while, but John’s hands squeezing his thighs and John’s lips against his own were bringing him back. It always did.

“I think I love you,” John whispered.

“No you don’t,” Alex reminded.

John let out a small sigh. “Maybe not.” He kissed Alex’s neck softly. “My brother is ordering dinner. I made sure he ordered something for you that you would like.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Alex smiled and pecked John’s lips. “Sometimes you’re wonderful, you know that?”

John nodded.

“I read Death In Venice.” Alex thought back to the book John had been bugging him to read.

“Did you like it?”

Alex shrugged.

“Well, regardless, did you think the main characters attraction and yearning for the fourteen-year-old boy was paternal, queer, or simply a desire for aesthetics?”

Alex paused, biting his lip. “I think it was queer. I think if he had gotten his hands on the child, seduction and physical contact would’ve been his priorities. I don’t think it was queer love, but queers don’t have to love each other.”

“What did you think of the boy making eye contact and paying attention to the man?” John asked.

“I thought he noticed someone who was giving him attention, and he liked having attention. I mean, he had siblings, there was no way he got the amount of attention he wanted. And like the book said, he was left to his own devices while his sister’s got instructed by their parents. That was a gender thing, most definitely, but it was also implied that because their parents left the boy to his own devices on the vacation, they most likely did the same at home. Now, the boy had a mother figure, the maid most likely, but he sees an older man who pays him mind, and he immediately vies for his attention. Whether the attention he wanted was sexual or paternal, I don’t know, but he did want attention from an older man. I think…” Alex paused, remembering John’s older boyfriend he had as a child. “I think if the man and the boy had been left in a room together, the man would’ve been able to easily convince the boy to partake in sexual activities.”

“Easily,” John nodded. “Little boys wanting attention from any man they can get their hands on. If you're fucked up enough, you take advantage of that.”

“Tell me about your boyfriend.”

“Which one?” John mused.

“The one you had, when you were fourteen.”

John’s face turned sour. “Later.”

“John-”

“I mean it, later.” John shook his head a bit. “I’ll tell you later, when I feel like it, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Really promise?”

“Fuck off.”

Alex smiled and kissed John. “I think you’re stupid.”

“Maybe.” John sighed, pressing his forehead to Alex’s. “Come on, let’s take a shower together, and I’ll suck you off so my brother can hear us queering each other in his own house, yeah?”

Alex smiled softly, nodding. “Alright, John.”


	23. Go To Sleep Little Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an AP exam tomorrow and the world is ending so I might as well update.

John’s brother ordered Thai food. Alex had always liked Thai food, he liked the way cilantro tasted. He also liked spicy food. His mother never liked Thai food, but she made a lot of spicy food, so Alex got used to spicy food. John knew this and made sure he was ordered curry, extra hot, with chicken.

Mary was giving Alex a death glare, but Alex ignored it. He really could care less about what these people thought about him. As long as he didn’t get poisoned in his sleep, that was alright. He poured the curry over his rice and took a bite. Martha had a small order of white rice in front of her, and she was picking at it. Alex wondered what she would look like at a normal weight. Maybe beautiful.

John’s family had the potential to be entirely beautiful, Alex thought. James was very handsome. He had a face that was somehow round and sharp at the same time. His cheekbones jutted out, but in a way that looked normal, and not scary like John’s. His hair was cut short and greased back with Dapper Dan. He would turn heads in New York. He was in shape too, with a body filled enough to look healthy, but thin enough to look young.

Mary was similar in the beauty aspect that James held. She had wide hips and a small chest, with a round face and Cupid’s bow lips that were in a constant pout. Her black hair was curly, up in a bun with a few pieces falling out. She looked like a porcelain doll that could break if you startled it. She was just so small and angelic.

Alex wondered if Martha ever looked at her and envied her, but he figured probably not.

“So, Alexander,” James started. “What do you do for a living?”

Alex looked at James, then smiled. “I do lush work.”

James’ lips were pulled down into a frown. “Of course.”

“I used to be in the army though, I fought in Vietnam.” Alex took a bite of his food, pretending to not care that he attracted James’ interest. “Yeah, did that, then the war ended, and I got home. I washed dishes for a bit, but then my boss found out that I was a flaming queer, so he fired me, and then I moved in with John because I didn’t have any money.”

“Then we had hot buttsex and became boyfriends,” John snickered.

“John,” James muttered. “Don’t be disgusting.”

John retaliated by planting a kiss on Alex’s cheek.

“I’m getting razor burn,” Martha muttered, rubbing her legs, which were up on the table.

“Shouldn’t have shaved your legs _in my new car_ ,” James huffed, stabbing a piece of chicken and eating it.

“I was bored!” Martha defended. “When is your wife coming back, by the way? Or is she never coming back?”

John laughed.

“She’ll be back tomorrow morning, she just wanted to give us some space to settle in.” James took a sip of his wine.

“‘Cause she knows we’re the poster children for a dysfunctional family?” John guessed, placing his hand high up on Alex’s thigh.

“We’re not.”

“Yes, we are.” John laughed. “We’ve always been.”

“Only because you two chose to be like that,” Mary pointed out.

“We chose to be like this?” John scoffed, grabbing Alex’s crotch. “Since when do people choose to be like this?”

“Oh, look at you. Drugs and drugs and edgy teenage angst that you can’t get over.” James shook his head. “You could be a normal person who does normal things, not, all that.”

“And you could’ve just let our father die without him knowing that he has children who love him but you didn’t do that, did you?”

“No one deserves to die like that,” James argued.

John stood up, almost knocking his chair back. “He did!”

James mirrored John, standing up too. “No, he didn’t!”

“Why the fuck don’t you care about anyone else in your family, huh?” John ran his hands over his greasy hair. “He fucked Martha up to a point of no return, drove Henry to paint the walls with his brain, raped momma to a point where she could barely even-”

“Oh, the pure irony! You tell me our father deserves no love and then defend our mother!” James laughed. “She used to beat you silly I don’t even see how you could-”

“Don’t you say a word about our mother!” John yelled, hitting the table. “It wasn’t her fault!”

“Then why was it our father’s fault?” James asked.

“He didn’t have to beat and rape us!”

“Neither did she!” James’ eyes were wide. “How many times did she hold a knife to you while on some meth trip? How many jobs did she lose because she couldn’t keep her shit together? We were all born with heroin running through our veins! And look at you! Look at both of you! She fucked you up just as much as our father did!”

“That’s bullshit,” John scoffed. “At least she loved us!”

“So did he!”

“You don’t rape your children to show love!” John looked close to throwing a punch. “All he did was beat us and hurt us! At least Martha and I had half the mind to get you into a better situation! You know what would’ve happened if we had left six-year-old little Mary there? She would’ve been used like a prostitute-” John looked at Martha. “No offense.”

Martha raised her wine glass, offering a smile. “None taken.”

Mary’s eyes were wide and she looked down at her dinner plate.

“Jesus, you are so fucked up,” James gasped. “You don’t even think before you speak! You just, just spew out the bullshit!”

John had a bit of a crazed smile on his face. “At least I’m honest, and not some popcorn paper pusher who can’t get it up.”

“Oh, suck a fucking cock.”

“Gladly.”

James glared at John. “You’re fucking disgusting.”

John slowly sat back down. “Ain’t I?”

“Are you two done?” Martha asked, pushing her rice around on her plate. “You both have big cocks, we get it.”

John snickered a bit.

“I’ve never been to Philadelphia before,” Alex put out, hoping to change the subject of conversation. There was a moment of silence where everyone just stared at him like he had lobsters coming out of his ears, and Alex regretted saying anything.

“How do you like it?” James’ voice was strained and uncomfortable like he was forcing himself to be nice. And he probably was.

“So far, I think it’s nice.” Alex shifted a bit as John’s hand began making its way up Alex’s thigh again. “It’s a bit quieter in New York.”

“Why live in New York in the first place, then?” James asked.

“Oh, well, it’s where I lived when my mother and I first immigrated here. It only seems right that I stay. Some people call New York no man’s land, because of all the immigrants there.”

“Where’d you come from?”

“Germany. My mother and I moved when I was thirteenish.” Alex took a small bite of his food and soaked in the awkward silence. God, he regretted coming.

“So, is your wife gonna show up?” Martha asked.

“She has a name.”

“Cindy?”

“Clara.” James pressed his lips together. “And yes, she’ll be here tomorrow morning, like I said.”

Martha held up her hands. She had stopped eating her rice halfway through and was now leaning back, filing her nails. “I forgot.”

John stood up abruptly. “I’m gonna go for a walk. Alex?”

Alex stood up just as quickly, setting his napkin on the table. “Yeah, sure, let’s go.”

They couldn’t have gotten out of the house fast enough.

It was a cool night out, so Alex walked close to John. John was holding his hand, and Alex wasn’t sure if it was for show or not. No one was watching, so maybe it wasn’t. Alex didn’t fully understand why John would hold his hand if no one was there to see it, but he let it happen since there was no reason not to. A gust of wind hit Alex like a bag of bricks, and he shivered.

“You’re cold?” John guessed.

Alex shrugged.

John slipped off his trench coat and wrapped it around Alex’s shoulders. It was a rare sight to see John without his dirty trench coat. His skinny chicken arms out against the night air, the sweat-stained sleeves of his tee-shirt. John had hairy arms, and Alex decided he liked that. John’s trench coat was just a bit too long on him and brushed the sidewalk behind him.

“I think I hate your family,” Alex stated, looking up at John.

“I think I hate them too if it makes you feel any better.”

“Your brother is a dick.”

“Yeah.” John looked at the sidewalk. “Sucks that the only brother I liked was the one who had to off himself.”

“I’m sorry he did that.” Alex was.

John shrugged. “I dunno, I feel like me and Martha are complete fuck ups while Mary and James really made something of themselves. I just feel bad. I feel bad because I know I have let them down in a way they won’t admit, and I also feel bad because I know if I had been stupid enough to look after them when they were kids, they would've ended up just as bad as me. And I mean, James is the only one who is actually alright. Mary puts on a show but I’m sure she’s beaten six ways ‘til Sunday by her husband.”

“Does no one say anything?” Alex muttered.

“Nah.” John shook his head. “Ain’t none of our business.”

“She is family.”

John looked at Alex, then looked away. “I spent a lot of time in my childhood tryna get my Momma to leave my Daddy. If I learned anything from that, it’s that ain’t no one gonna leave anyone if they don’t want to.”

Alex hummed, leaning up against John a bit. “You and James really don’t get along, do you?”

“Never have, not even when we were kids. I’d still take a bullet for him any day of the week. Not because I like him though, just ‘cause he’s family and shit. It’s what you do.”

Alex nodded.

“I think you’ll like James’ wife though. She’s almost kind of cool. I dunno how he landed a chick like that, but you and her might get along.” John sighed. “I wanna get high.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You wanna shoot up tonight?”

Alex thought for a second. The day after shooting up, he always felt a little itchy, but he decided it was worth it. “Yeah, sure.”

“Fuckin’ joybanger.” John smiled at Alex, then kissed his temple. “Are you sure I don’t love you?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“That’s alright.” John let go of Alex’s hand and placed his arm around Alex’s waist.

“Does your brother really think it’s gross you’re with another man?” Alex asked.

John nodded. “He’s never liked queers. When I had that boyfriend he’d always make comments. He was young at that time too. Martha never cared, she’s a carpet eater herself.”

“Thought lesbians don’t like it when people who aren’t lesbians call them carpet eaters,” Alex pointed out.

“They don’t, but ain’t no lesbians around to get mad about it. Besides, my sister’s not a lesbian. She ain’t fuckin’ normal though, that’s for sure.” John snickered. “I think my momma woulda still loved me if she was alive right now. Even if I was still like this, still living and fucking with you, doing drugs, crime, all that shit. I think she would still love me like she did when I was a kid.”

“You really know she loved you?”

John nodded, then looked down. “People ain’t always perfect, Alex. But shit, that wasn’t her fault.” He rubbed a scar on his arm, the one he got from his mother when she had a bad trip and thought he was trying to kill her. “I just… I dunno. She was the only parent I had who loved me. And she did, I know she did. She told me.” John smiled softly. “We’d lay on the couch together, and she’d hold me in her arms and run her fingers through my hair. She’d sing to me when I couldn’t sleep.”

For a second, Alex thought John was going to cry.

“She just… she would’ve been better if she had gotten better. More.”

Alex rested his head against John’s shoulder. “She sounded wonderful.”

“She was. She hung the goddamn moon.”

Alex nodded softly.

“We should head back, before we get lost, yeah?” John gave Alex a sweet, boyish smile, and for a moment, he almost looked nice.

“Yeah, alright.”

They turned and began walking back to James’ house. They walked in relative silence this time, deciding the conversation was done. When they got back in, the table was cleared, and only Martha was in the living room, She looked like she had just shot up, her eyes were rolled back in her head.

Alex sat between John’s legs and tied up his arm first, injecting the heroin and handing the syringe to John. Alex conked out pretty quickly, watching John tie up his arm and inject more heroin into his veins. Alex felt so out of it. Euphoria was running through his veins. Alex wasn’t sure if you were supposed to hallucinate while on heroin, John never mentioned it, but he did. Nothing scary or bad, just little things. Spiders climbing down from the ceiling on webs, clear stringy hairs on his arm, glowing and waving in the nonexistent breeze.

Alex tended to fall asleep towards the end of the high. He never stayed asleep. One time, he passed out and then woke up to John rubbing ice on his neck and slapping his face. John had freaked out when he got out of his high and Alex was passed out, so his brain instantly came up with the worst conclusion, and he began treating Alex as if he was overdosing. Now, John just shoves Alex awake.

He woke up from the high to John playing with his hair. It was so tender that Alex wondered if it was actually John who was doing that. But it was John. His hands were so gentle and sweet. Alex wondered if this was what John’s mother did for him. Alex wondered if John was thinking about his mom right now.

“I like your hair more now that it’s long,” John stated.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Alex smiled a bit. His hair was pretty long now, down to his upper back. John cut his bangs for him, so they were always uneven and choppy. Alex liked the look though. John said the long hair made Alex about a hundred times hotter than he used to be. And Alex agreed with that. He was hotter. He had gone from meathead vet with no life to a long-haired, scrappy asshole, and the look suited him.

John kissed Alex’s cheek.

“You two are gross,” Martha muttered from her spot on the couch. She was still pretty out of it, and she hadn’t managed to get her shoes off yet.

Alex sat up and unbuckled her heels, tossing them to the floor. “You want me to help you to bed?”

“Yes, please!” Martha smiled, sticking out her arms. “Grab my shoes, don’t just leave ‘em down here.”

Alex stood up and helped Martha up, then grabbed her shoes. “John, you fix up the couch. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t fuck my sister,” John warned.

“I know the drill,” Alex chuckled, helping Martha to the steps. He kept her leaned up against him. She was stumbling, weak, and felt barely eighty pounds in Alex’s arms. Alex was gentle with her, making sure she didn’t stumble. He took his time since he didn’t really have anywhere else to be. 

He got Martha to her guest room and laid her down, helping her get out of her skirt and tube top. It was hard to see anything sexual about her, even as she laid in front of him almost entirely naked. She looked like she was dying, and she was, most likely. Alex found a baggy tee-shirt in her suitcase and put it on her, then tucked her in.

“Mm, you’re kinda cute, you know that?” Martha smiled. “But like, in a brother way, where I wouldn’t fuck you.”

Alex chuckled a bit as he tucked the blanket around her.

“Sorry, you got stuck with John.”

Alex sat down on Martha’s bad. “Awh, he ain’t that bad.”

“Yeah, he is.” She pushed herself up on her elbows. “You’re way too good for him.”

Alex rolled his eyes.

“You are.”

“You should sleep. Will you eat something tomorrow?”

Martha pressed her lips together and smiled. “You gimme those big brown eyes and those sweet pouty lips and expect me to say no to that face. What are you? You look Puerto Rican.”

“I’m Israeli.”

“Ah, yeah, that makes sense. Got the nose for it.” Martha touched Alex’s nose, then laid back. “Alright, I’m shot.”

Alex stood up, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You sleep well, Martha, alright? I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’re my favorite brother, I think,” Martha mumbled.

“Even though I’m not your brother?”

“Even though you’re not my brother,” she confirmed. “Night.”

“Night.” Alex got up and left, walking back down to the living room where John was. The pullout couch was set up, and John was changing into some pajamas. His back was bare, and Alex could make out the tattoo on it. He came up to John and kissed his shoulder, then peeled off his jeans and laid down.

“Took you long enough,” John commented.

“Would you relax?” Alex scoffed and smiled, picking up his book. “I’m allowed to be friends with your sister. We were just talking. She’s a pretty nice person to talk to, actually.”

John gave Alex a suspicious look but didn’t say anything.

“Come here.” Alex put his book down on his chest and then accepted a small kiss from John. “Hey, come on, it’s okay.”

John curled up next to Alex. “I fucking hate my family. It makes me sad to see them. It makes me miss my brother and my momma.”

Alex began to pet John’s hair.

“Whatcha reading?” John asked.

“Naked Lunch.”

“Read some to me.”

“Alright.” And Alex did, telling the story about a druggist in Houston, and all the other little adventures in the book. When it got late, and Alex’s voice began to croak, he checked that John was asleep before setting the book down and turned out the lamp. Light from the window streaked across the floor, and Alex wondered if it was natural, or like the light in New York, just a reflection of the clouds.


	24. We Didn't Start The Fire

Alex’s nose was in the patch of hair above John’s cock, and John’s cock was deep in Alex’s mouth. The man wasn’t huge by any means, so taking the whole thing wasn’t hard for Alex. He had met men that were hung like a horse in the army, and he had taken most of them, so John’s six inches wasn’t much of a bother to his throat.

Alex and John had never had sex, and Alex wasn’t too sure why. Logically, they should’ve, and John had fucked other people before, but they just… hadn't. John was too high, Alex was too busy, there were a million reasons. Alex wondered if John was scared of sex, he rarely did it in the first place. Either way, Alex wasn’t gonna bring it up. He didn’t care really. He got what he needed from the people he liked.

“Jesus fucking Christ, John.”

Alex jumped when James walked into the living room.

John didn’t let Alex move up, he just kept his head where it was, holding it there with his hand. “Hiya, Jemmy.”

“Fucking fags.”

Alex would’ve been fine with staying where he was, but he couldn’t breathe, so he let himself bite John’s cock a bit so John would let him come up. He gasped for air, shaking his head. “Shit, John, don’t do that.”

John smiled that cocky smile of his, patting Alex’s cheek. “Sorry, sugar. Finish me off, will ya?”

James was gone and in the kitchen, so Alex had no problem with it. John was quick to finish, he usually was, and soon enough, they were both walking into the kitchen. John poured both him and Alex a cup of coffee and then sat down with James at the table. Alex sipped his coffee and read his book, letting John kiss up and down his neck between sips of coffee. Alex wondered if this is what an actual relationship was like, but he assumed probably not. Nothing with John was normal. Alex wasn’t even sure John had ever even got an example of a normal life.

“When’s Clara coming over?” John asked.

James shrugged a bit, reading his paper and smoking a pipe. “Soon.”

“Soon could mean anything. Soon could mean years,” John pointed out.

“Is that what soon means to you?” James looked at John from over his newspaper, his eyes narrowed.

“Sometimes.”

“Then come back soon.”

Alex stood up. “Hey, James, could I use your phone? I had a friend who wanted me to call him when we got down there, just to check-in.”

“Yeah, right there.” James pointed to a handset on the counter.

Alex picked it up and dialed Lafayette’s number.

The phone rang twice, then Hercules picked it up. “Hello?”

“Heya, Herc, is Laf there?”

“One sec.” Herc took the phone away from his face. “Yo! Laf! Alex is calling!”

A few seconds later, Laf was on the other end. “Hey, Alex.”

“Hey.” Alex paused for a moment. “Just calling to let you know we made it to Philly alright.”

Lafayette smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I miss you, alright.”

“We’ve gone weeks without seeing each other,” Alex pointed out, laughing.

“Yeah, but it’s different this time.”

Alex looked at John and James, sitting at the table, and then turned away from them, lowering his voice a bit. “Yeah, it is.”

“Do you miss me?”

“I do.”

Lafayette chuckled. “When you get back, I’m gonna take you out to dinner, something nice, something sweet.” He thought for a second. “Do you like Greek food?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

“Oh, then I’ll take you to a Greek restaurant. We can get a lot of food, you can figure out what you like.”

“Alright.” Alex let out a small laugh. “You seeing Eliza any time soon?”

“Yeah, we’re going to lunch tomorrow. Gonna be queer and eat carbs.”

“Alright, give her a hug and a kiss for me, yeah?”

“Always.” Lafayette sighed. “Hey, I love you, alright?”

“I know.”

“Okay, good.” Lafayette let out a soft sigh. “When you get back, seriously, I’m taking you to dinner, something nice.”

“You gonna steal another car?” Alex mused.

“Only because I like what comes after.”

“And I don’t get a say in this whole ordeal?”

“Nope.” Lafayette laughed.

“Alright, be prepared for my shitty thrift shop clothes.”

“Already am. You gotta let me take you shopping, baby.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Alex was about to say more, but John wrapped his arms around his waist and put his head on Alex’s shoulder. “Lemme talk to him. Hey Laf!”

Lafayette sighed. “Hi, John.”

“Laf, you gonna treat me right when I get back?” John teased.

“Alright, Laf, we gotta go.” Alex elbowed John a bit. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Alex, be safe. Adios.”

“Bye, Laf.” Alex shoved the phone on the receiver and smacked John on the shoulder. “Trouble! You’re nothing but it!”

John pushed Alex against the counter, laughing. “Am I?”

“Yes!” Alex laughed, tilting his head back as John kissed down his neck. “You are absolutely terrible!” He wrapped his arms around John’s neck. “Nothing but trouble.”

John let his forehead fall against Alex’s shoulder, sighing. “Mm, yeah, I know.”

“Do you two have to do that right here?” James muttered.

John didn’t respond, but held Alex closer and pressed a soft kiss on his neck. Alex didn’t really want to be on the bad side of James, though he knew he wasn’t on his good side either, but he left the tender affection wash over him. John was hugging Alex so closely, and it had such a warm feeling to it.

“You two can’t go a single moment without touching each other, huh?”

Alex looked up to see Martha, and for once in her life, she wasn’t dressed like a woman of the night. Alex had never really thought that there was anything wrong with the way Martha dressed, most of the time Eliza’s outfits were a couple of inches away from her boobs falling out, but it was almost odd to see her like this. Loose high waisted jeans with an old tee shirt tucked into it, bare feet, no makeup. Her hair was up in a messy bun, but pieces were falling out.

“You look nice today,” Alex commented.

“I look nice every day,” Martha replied.

“You do, but you look nice in a different way today.”

Martha smiled a bit and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her slender hands cupped the mug, holding it up to her face. Alex wondered if she was cold. He got the urge to knit her a sweater or a blanket. Alex felt protective over Martha, in a way a brother would feel protective over his sister. He wanted nothing bad to ever happen to Martha ever again, and if it did, he felt ready to fight for her.

John pressed another kiss to Alex’s neck before pulling away and leaning against the counter next to him, sipping his coffee. “How’d you sleep, Martha?”

“Alright.” She shrugged. “You know how I feel about guest rooms.”

John nodded.

Mary was the last one to come down. She was still in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes a bit. She went straight for the coffee, and then put two spoonfuls of sugar and a lot of cream in it. She took a sip and then looked around. “Why am I always the last one up?”

“Because you know if you stay in bed long enough, we’ll put your Eggos in the toaster so you don’t have to,” John chuckled.

James smiled, and it was the first time he had smiled that whole trip. “Mary couldn’t even reach the counter, we had to put her Eggos in for her.”

“For a while, you couldn’t either,” Mary shot back.

“John always could,” Martha chuckled. “He was born, like, five feet tall.”

John laughed. “I used to sit Henry on my shoulders so he could steal pies from window sills. One time, someone caught us doing it, so I took off running, and he dropped the pie on my head.”

James burst out laughing. “I remember that! Mom thought you’d be shot!”

“Or that Henry had been shot,” Martha reminded.

Alex hadn’t really seen the Laurens family act like siblings yet, so watching then do it now was almost odd. They were almost a family. Of course, the moment was quickly squandered when John and James got into a disagreement of what happened, and Mary told them to shut up about it, and then they all started fighting again. Alex went back out into the living room with his coffee and laid down on the pullout, grabbing his book and reading.

He looked up when a woman walked through the front door with a small kid, one who couldn’t have been older than six. She was tall, pretty, with long dirty blonde hair. Alex could’ve sworn she looked almost punk, but in a way where she stopped so she could work a decent job.

She looked at Alex, a bit confused. “Which one are you?”

“I’m Alex.”

“Alex.” She paused. “I don’t remember James mentioning an Alex.” Her accent wasn’t American, nor was it British.

“I’m John’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, you!” She smiled, setting down her keys and approaching Alex. “I’m Clara.”

Alex stood up and shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She peered over Alex’s shoulder and into the kitchen. “How long have they been fighting?”

“Since we got here,” Alex answered.

She sighed. “Alright. This is my son, Christopher.” She looked at the little kid, with his light bright wavy hair and dark dark eyes. “Say hi.”

“Hi,” he mumbled.

“This is your uncle John’s boyfriend,” she explained.

Alex felt a bit awkward. No, he wasn’t Christopher’s uncle John’s boyfriend. He was just Alex.

“Let’s go break up the chaos, shall we?”

Alex decided he liked Clara.

“Alright, alright!” She yelled, walking into the kitchen. “No fighting around the child! Come on, I bet none of you have even gotten breakfast yet.”

“Clara!” John smiled, hugging her. “Good to see you.”

Clara kissed John’s cheek, then hugged Martha, kissing her cheek as well. “Goodness, all of you. Let me cook you something. Eggs? Do you like eggs?” Clara was already pulling eggs out of the fridge. “You both look starved.”

“Thanks, mom,” Martha chuckled sarcastically.

Christopher ran over and hugged John. “Uncle!”

“Hey, kiddo!” John lifted up his arm and let the kid hang there. “There’s my favorite nephew. You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you!”

“You look like a zombie,” Christopher stated. “Why?”

John’s eyes widened, as well as his smile. “Because I’m a drug addict.”

“John!” James gasped.

Clara cut in before anyone could start fighting again. “James, darling, grate some cheese.”

James kissed Clara’s cheek before following her instruction. The whole house seemed a bit warmer now that she was here. It didn’t have a dark theme because they were elitists, it had a dark theme because she was almost punk in her own way.

She made enough eggs to feed an army, and barely enough to feed the Laurens children. Martha didn’t eat any, but between Mary, James, John, Alex, Christopher, and Clara, there were none left by the time breakfast was done. Mary went to take a shower, John and Clara went into the living room to talk, so Alex found himself on the stoop in front of the house with Martha, watching the people go by.

“Why don’t you eat?” Alex asked.

“You’re not one for small talk, are you?” Martha joked.

“Sorry, what’s your favorite color?”

Martha tilted her head a bit, thinking. “Blue. No, yellow.” She looked at Alex. “You?”

“I dunno, red.”

She nodded. “I don’t know why I don’t eat.”

Alex looked at her.

“Just seems like the right thing to do.”

“Don’t you get hungry?”

She let out a bitter chuckle, turning to Alex. “I’m always hungry. I’ve never not been hungry. I’m starving right now.”

“If you could have anything in the world to eat right now, what would it be?”

She paused. “I don’t know. Probably a burrito.”

Alex nodded. “Those are good.”

“They are.” She let a beat of silence play out before speaking again. “You’re not really dating John, are you?”

Alex shook his head.

“Alright, good.” She chuckled. “I love him to death, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not… I don’t think he’s the best person. He’s not husband material. He’s a great drug dealer, a good brother, but he’s just not… I dunno. You get what I’m saying.”

“I do. I don’t want to date John if it makes you feel any better.”

“It does.” Martha pulled out a pack of smokes, lighting one up. “You want one?”

Alex nodded and took one from the pack, then let Martha light it up for him. They sat out there for a while, taking in the morning air. Alex bummed another cigarette off of her and promised to buy her a new pack.

“Hey, losers.” John stepped outside and sat on the steps behind them. “Too cool to socialize?”

Martha looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Just planning your murder.”

“Awh, without me?”

Alex laughed.

“Gimme a hit.”

Alex put his cigarette to his lips, taking a long puff, before grabbing John by the collar and kissing him, blowing smoke into his mouth as he did. When they pulled away, John let out an exhale, laughing as he did.

“Shit.”

Alex smiled, taking another hit off of his cigarette. “Yeah.”

“You two are gross,” Martha muttered.

Alex nudged her with his shoulder. “You love us.”

She flipped them both off.

The trio sat out there for a little longer, and then James left to go handle some funeral arrangements, and Martha wanted to go shower and use some of Clara’s fancy hair products, so John and Alex went back inside. Alex went into an unoccupied bathroom to shave, while John just sat on the couch and read.

“You know,” John started as Alex walked in. “I could take you on a date tonight.”

“Isn’t your father’s funeral tomorrow?” Alex mused, rubbing the clean and fresh skin on his jaw.

“Yeah, but I wanna take you to dinner tonight.”

Alex sat down next to John, leaning against him. “I don’t wanna leave your sister alone here.”

“Why? What do you care?”

I just don’t! Why don’t the three of us go to a bar or something?” Alex looked at John. “I don’t wanna put her in an awkward situation.”

John groaned. “I hate it when you use puppy dog eyes on me.”

Alex smiled and kissed John’s cheek.

“I’m taking you to dinner at least once during this trip. Gonna get a fucking Philly cheesesteak or some shit. Gonna treat you right.” John pushed Alex down on the couch, kissing his face.

“John!” Alex laughed.

John pulled Alex into a gentle kiss, sighing. “Mm, you’re beautiful.”

“Shut up, liar.”

“You are!”

“I look like shit right now!” And Alex did. His hair was a mess, he looked a bit haggard and pale. He looked like he had done heroin the night before. He had a bruise running up his vein, and his lips were chapped. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and the skin around his eyes was red and purple.

“No, you don’t.” John pecked Alex’s lips. “You look beautiful.”

Alex closed his eyes, letting his head fall back a bit. “Whatever, asshole.”

John leaned in and kissed Alex.

“Young eyes approaching the room!” Clara called out, most likely referencing Christopher.

Alex pushed John off of the couch and sat up. John hit the floor with a thud just as Clara and Christopher entered the living room.

“Ow,” John mumbled, laying on the floor.

“Hey,” Alex smiled.

“Were you guys kissing?” Christopher asked.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Alex and John’s voices overlapped.

“You two are ridiculous,” Clara muttered. “He’s seven, not stupid. He knows that sometimes men kiss other men. It’s the eighties, it’s not like he’s never gonna see it.”

John chuckled. “Clara, how did a woman like you end up with my brother?”

“He was real sweet, lots of flowers.” Clara smiled. “And he’s actually a pretty pleasant person, you two just hate each other.”

“I’m a prime example of how he can’t control everything.” John stood up, cracking his back a bit. “Are you ready for the funeral tomorrow? Is Chris coming?”

“I’m ready for the funeral, and no, Chris is not coming, because he didn’t even know his grandpa,” Clara stated.

“Thought you guys nursed him back to health or something,” John muttered.

Clara gave a tightlipped smile to John and then turned to Christopher. “Baby, will you go into the kitchen?”

“Why?” Chris asked.

“Because I need to talk to your uncles for a second. I’ll be right there.” She kissed his head and patted his back, then sat down on the couch. “My husband is a flawed man, much like all of us. I know he cared about his father, regardless of what the man did, but that was something we disagreed on. We spent money on that man’s medical bills, money I would’ve preferred to use on something else. But I let him spend that money, as long as he let me keep Christopher away from your father.”

John raised an eyebrow.

“I know what that man did. And I don’t care if he’s frail and dying, he’s not going near my son.” She patted John’s cheek. “It breaks my heart to see you and Martha because I truly believe that had the situation been different, you two would’ve been alright.” Clara stood up, sighing a bit. “If you’re going to do anything disrespectful at the funeral tomorrow, try to do it when James isn’t looking, alright?”

John smiled and nodded. “You rock, Clara.”

“I know.”


	25. Lampshades On Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never really gotten sad in a sympathetic way for the people I write but Martha is over here breaking my heart. Why can't life be better for her???

John wore his wedding tux to his father’s wedding. Alex wouldn’t have guessed it was John’s wedding tux, but John told him as he put it on that morning. It was wrinkled, and smelled like mothballs and liquor. The jacket was still loose on John. Alex could’ve sworn there was still frosting from his wedding night on it, but it could’ve been jizz. Alex wasn’t sure.

Alex was only wearing his usual white tee shirt and black jeans, but this time paired a black blazer he and Eliza had picked out before he left. Alex felt awkward at the funeral. It wasn't an open casket at the very least, but still.

It was a grey day, the sky looked like it was about to begin raining. Alex wished he had an umbrella, but he didn’t think about it too much. Instead, he focused on leaning up against John as the pastor talked. Apparently, John’s father was very religious towards the end of his life. With Alex’s knowledge of Catholics, it made sense. The pastor was boring though, and Alex just wanted to get a bagel. God, he could’ve killed for a bagel. He hadn’t managed to grab breakfast before they left James’ house, and now he had to listen to his stomach grumble.

The body was put in the ground, and the family stayed to watch the dirt fill up the hole. The gravestone said ‘Henry Scott Laurens, Father, Husband, Friend.’ Alex didn’t really have the right to be angry at the man, he thought. None of his abuse had ever really affected him, but looking at the gravestone, Alex suddenly understood exactly why John hated his father. Alex wanted to piss on the man’s grave.

“Can Martha and I…” John looked back at the grave. “Can we have a second with him?”

James nodded, and he, Mary, and Clara left. Alex was going to leave too, but John grabbed his arm and pulled him in tight next to him. Alex was confused for a moment, but then he saw John fiddling with his belt and Martha covering the smile on her mouth. She was dressed surprisingly modest for the funeral, but Alex could almost understand why.

“Cover me,” John muttered.

Alex made sure to block James’ view of John, tucking himself tightly at a ninety-degree angle to John.

“I’ve been holding it since this morning.” John pulled his cock out of his pants, sighing a bit as he leaned his head back.

“Then go,” Martha pushed.

“Stop looking, I can’t go if you’re looking.”

“Dude, they’re gonna know,” Martha ushered.

“Shut up.”

Alex laughed a bit, resting his head on John’s shoulder. He stared at John’s cock, stared at it until John started pissing. He looked away after that, making eye contact with Martha, who looked more bored than anything. If she and John lived together for more than two months, Alex assumed this wasn’t a new sight for Martha. John would walk around naked whether or not you were fucking. He was a toddler like that. He hated clothes.

John shook a bit as he finished up, then put his cock away and kissed Alex. “I’d fuck you on his grave, you know. It’d piss him off.”

“You couldn’t fuck me if you tried,” Alex scoffed.

John grabbed a large handful of Alex’s ass and smiled. “Yeah?”

“Alright, come on, James is looking over here, and your hand on Alex’s ass isn’t helping our case.” Martha tightened her shawl around her shoulders and then began walking back. John walked with her, keeping Alex close to his side. Alex was still hungry, but the only people he was really friends with were the people who never fucking ate.

“I wanna shoot up,” John muttered.

“Me too, we can do it in my room,” Martha chuckled as they approached the group. “Just like old times.”

“Did you say anything to him?” James asked.

John smiled, almost wickedly. “Nope.”

James’ brows furrowed, but before he could say anything, Clara cut in. “We should get breakfast.”

“Yes,” Alex agreed quickly.

“Are you hungry?” John asked as if he hadn’t yet realized that people could get hungry.

“Starved,” Alex admitted.

“Then let’s get some pancakes.” Clara smiled. “Come on, there’s a Denny's right near here.” She took James’ hand. “I’m hungry too.”

The group of six walked to Denny’s and sat down in a booth, John, Martha, and Alex on one side, with James, Clara, and Mary on the other. Alex drooled over the menu for a bit, then ordered a short stack with a side of fries and orange juice. Martha ordered cold water and a slice of lemon, John ordered a plate of bacon and nothing else. He put his arm around Alex and leaned into him a bit. Alex smiled softly, placing his hand on John’s thigh.

Food came and Alex had never eaten so quickly. He was like a starved animal pouncing on a rotten carcass for the first time in weeks. Alex didn’t know why he was so hungry, but he figured it was just a bit of withdrawal from the heroin he shot up the other night. He never got real withdrawal symptoms, nothing like John’s, but they usually made him hungry and irritable. Which Alex was. He was annoyed at Martha for not eating, and he was annoyed at John for no other reason than he wanted to be. He knew it was irrational, so he bit his tongue and did his best not to be sharp with them, but still, he felt irritated.

He probably needed sleep.

“Chris has a little league game tonight,” Clara brought up.

James made a face like he wished she hadn’t brought it up.

“What’s his team?” John asked curiously.

“The Gators.”

“Like Florida?”

Clara nodded. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you all came.”

James lightly elbowed Clara’s side.

“I’m sure they don’t want our kind there,” John pointed out, laughing a bit.

“No, no, please, come.”

“Clara,” James muttered.

It seemed to click with John that his brother didn’t want him coming, so he smiled his big Cheshire smile and hugged Alex close to his side, smiling. “You know what? I think we’d love to come. I think it would be wonderful to see my nephew's little league game.” John kissed the side of Alex’s head. “What do you think, baby?”

“Sounds great,” Alex nodded, his mouth full of pancakes.

“Are you starving this boy up in New York?” Clara joked.

Alex nodded. “I do all the grocery shopping. When I moved in, he only had expired milk and stale crackers.”

“I eat out a lot,” John defended.

“I can’t believe my brother lives with a man.” James shook his head and stabbed a sausage with his fork.

“And we have hot buttsex too,” John smiled.

“Yeah, lots of it.” Alex sipped his orange juice. “And then we touch our wieners together.”

“Do you have to-”

“You kind of bring it on yourself,” Martha pointed out. “They never say that stuff around me. You know why?”

“Why?” James scoffed.

“Because I don’t make them feel like total shit bags for fucking each other.” Martha lit up a cigarette, breathing in a long puff and letting it out through her nose.

“Do you have one I could bum?” Alex asked.

“You owe me a pack,” Martha smiled, handing Alex a cigarette and a lighter.

They got back to the house, and Chris was there with two older people. They looked like grandparents. They were Clara’s, and they had thick Bulgarian accents. Christopher smiled and jumped up into James’ arms. James smiled and kissed Chris’ face.

“Who’s my boy?” James laughed, hugging Chris towards him.

“Hey, Mom, hey, Dad.” James kissed the two people’s cheeks. “Guys, these are Clara’s parents, Ana and Dimo.”

Alex swallowed and leaned against John a bit. He had always been a bit wary with Bulgarians. It wasn’t really anything personal, it was just the fact that Bulgaria participated in the holocaust as well, and killed over ten thousand Jewish people. He knew not all Bulgarians agreed with such actions, but not all Germans and Austrians agreed with such actions either.

“They will be joining us for tea,” James announced.

Alex squeezed John’s hand and then let it go and mentioned that he was going to freshen up. He found a bathroom and locked the door, before splashing some water on his face and looking in the mirror. His hair was almost a mess, but he didn’t have a brush, so he tied it back best he could and rubbed the stubble on his jaw. He had dark bags under his eyes. As a child, he could never see any similarities between him and his mother, but now he did. They had the same face shape, long, with high cheekbones that didn’t stick out. Same rounded jaw, same chapped lips that weren’t full, but weren’t thin either. He had his father’s eyes though, or that’s what Alex assumed. It’s what his brother said.

Alex’s eyes were deep-set and hooded. He was barely thirty, and already the skin below them was a bit swollen and dark, no matter how much he slept. John had almond eyes, almost monolid. John and Mary had the same eyes, but Martha and James’ were more… downturned, almost. They all looked almost similar but different enough to not instantly look like siblings.

Alex left the bathroom and dropped his blazer on the arm of the couch before making it into the dining room. He sat down next to John and poured himself a glass of wine. John took Alex’s hand and kissed his shoulder, smiling boyishly.

“Hey,” John muttered.

“Yeah?” Alex raised an eyebrow and offered a side-eye.

“You’re gorgeous.”

Alex glanced at Clara’s parents, who were eyeing them a bit, and then looked at John. “I know.”

“You are trouble.” John pecked Alex’s lips. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Am I?” Alex smiled a bit, then sat back.

“And this is Alex,” Clara stated. “He’s John’s boyfriend.”

It was weird, how open Clara was. Like she was almost challenging her parents to say something. She seemed confident, unafraid. Alex almost wanted to be her. Instead of saying anything to add to her bold statement though, he just smiled and waved a bit. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Tea went by quickly and without a hiccup. Alex was glad for that. All he wanted to do was lie down and take a nap. Or explore James’ library a bit more. And he did get that chance when everyone was thoroughly distracted with Christopher, and John was showering.

Alex walked through the house, up to the library he found Mary crying in that first night. There were a lot of books, and Alex quickly found out most of them were law or history related. He decided he liked John’s taste of books much more. More than bland books retelling laws made a hundred years ago.

In Alex’s snooping, he stumbled across James’ desk. It was mostly paper, but then there was a family photo. Alex picked it up and looked at it. There was John, tall and lanky for what seemed to be a twelve-year-old. He had a black eye in this photo and a pedo stache. Martha was skinnier than she was now, ten years old, not smiling. Mary was a baby, little curls sticking out of a poorly knitted hat. James couldn’t have been more than six. Then there was another child, maybe eight, with long hair and a big smile, showing off his lack of front teeth.

John’s mother was holding Mary. She was beautiful, but despite her age, which couldn’t have been more than her late twenties, she looked tired, and aged beyond what was right. Alex felt so terrible for her. He wished he had been able to do something. She had a hand on John’s shoulder, and it looked so tender.

Alex looked to John’s father, and it wasn’t what he expected. John’s father was handsome, trim almost. He looked no older than thirty, with broad shoulders and slicked-back hair. He wasn’t smiling.

“What are you doing in here?” It was James.

Alex dropped the photo, startled beyond what he should’ve been. “Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to see what books you have.”

“Anything of interest?” James mused, though it wasn’t playful.

“No.” Alex picked the photo back up again. “The fifth kid in this photo, Henry, right?”

James took a step closer, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Did you know him well?”

James shrugged. “He was John’s brother more than he was mine.”

Alex nodded.

“I have to ask.” James looked at Alex, shaking his head a bit. “Why John?”

Alex shrugged. “He’s not normal. And I think I like that.” A smile came to his lips. “I mean, before him, I was a dishwasher who ate the same TV dinner every night. I didn’t have a purpose. I wouldn’t say I have one now, but I definitely feel happier.” Alex set down the photo and straightened it out a bit. “Yeah, I’m happier.”

“Hey, there you are,” John smiled, walking over. He made brief eye contact with his brother before wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist and kissing his cheek. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Just admiring my handsome boyfriend when he was twelve.” Alex held up the photo, showing it to John.

“Oh, man.” John laughed a bit. “I looked like a rat.”

“News flash, baby, you don’t look much different now,” Alex teased.

“Bastard!” John gasped. “Come on, let’s go play T ball with Christopher to get him ready for his game tonight.” John looked at James. “Let’s go, yeah?”

The three made their way into the back yard, and most of it was already set up. Martha and Mary were on first and second, Clara on the third. James took pitcher, and John took shortstop. Since Alex was abhorrent at baseball, he just sat and watched them play. It was almost domestic. If you just glanced at them, it was like they were a real, normal family. Alex smiled at the way they all let Christopher get home runs. There was no one else to hit anyway, so if he didn’t, he’d just have to go and bat.

When it was T ball time, Christopher changed into his little baseball uniform and they all either got a cab and rode with James to the game. John tried to look as little like a drug addict as possible, and even put on a clean pair of jeans and an old beat up flannel instead of his trench coat.

It was a small T ball field, with metal bleachers. John kept Alex tucked up in his arm the whole time, cheering for Christopher as he played. They didn’t keep score, but John kept writing down who scored what. Christopher’s team won, and John made sure to tell Christopher that. Even if John was a shit person who’d probably rot in Hell, he was a good uncle. He loved Christopher.

Alex wondered if John ever thought about his own son. Alex hoped, for the sake of that child, that the two never met. Alex never met his father, and maybe he was okay with men treating him like shit, but it’s better than someone who’s supposed to be so important just letting you down.

On the taxi ride home, Alex kissed John’s cheek, then stared out the window. He was pretty sure he missed home.

-

It was their second to last night there. John and his brother were fighting in the living room, and Alex was on the phone with Lafayette. Martha was sleeping off a ketamine high on the couch, and Mary and Clara were sitting at the kitchen table, talking. John and James weren’t yelling, but you could occasionally hear some snippy remark. When Martha had snorted a line of ketamine on his living room coffee table, James had been less than thrilled. John had made some comment of James being uptight, and then their war of words began. So, Alex had excused himself to call Lafayette. James’ phone was a lot nicer than John’s.

“I miss you,” Lafayette sighed after a moment of silence.

“I miss you too,” Alex replied. “I’ll be back tomorrow night though. You gonna be there?”

“Yeah, I will.” Lafayette chuckled. “We can watch a flick. Something raunchy.”

Alex let out a soft sigh. “That sounds really nice.”

“How was the funeral?”

Alex shrugged, leaning against the wall. “Not the worst one I’ve been too. Not the best. There wasn’t any food.”

“No food? Damn.” Lafayette paused. “I’ll cook you something when you get back.”

“I could kill for one of your famous omelets.” Alex curled the phone cord in his hand. “Hey, I should probably go make sure Martha isn’t overdosing while John and James bicker.”

Lafayette let out something of a discontented sigh. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Yeah.” Alex paused. “Bye.”

“Bye.” Lafayette said it like he had a million more things to say and no way to say them.

Alex hung up the phone and walked into the living room. John and James were still making sarcastic remarks at each other, and Martha was browsing the leather-bound books on the shelf. Alex went and stood next to her, placing his hand on the middle of her back so she knew he was there. She looked over at him and smiled softly, then ran her fingertips across a fake gold frame of Clara, James, and Christopher.

“I coulda had a family,” Martha muttered softly. “A real one.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, and for a moment, looked really sad. Then she smiled and blushed a brown leather book from the shelf and sat down on the couch. She opened it, and Alex could see that it was filled with pictures. Alex went and leaned over the back of the couch, looking at them. This must’ve been all their childhood photos because the very first picture in this album was of John. He was in front of a trailer, in a diaper, running around a sprinkler. It was labeled, with a year and everything.

_“‘50, Johnathan and the sprinkler on a hot day”_

“Ma always kept photos.” Martha smiled softly. “John, James, could you shut up for a moment? Come here.”

John smiled wide when he saw the photo album and sat down next to Martha. James sat on the other side, and Martha turned the page. There was a picture of John holding Martha, smiling big at the camera, one of his teeth gone.

“Didn’t actually lose that one naturally,” John told Alex. “Knocked it out on the concrete. My own fault. Didn’t get it fixed because a new one was gonna grow in eventually.”

Martha touched her baby face. Despite the poor quality of the photo, Alex could see the long lashes and sweet round cheeks she had as an infant. Her eyelashes weren’t long like that anymore.

The first couple of pictures was just each Laurens child holding the new one. John was the child holding Henry, and he was kissing the little baby cheeks in the photo, a big smile on his face. He was four, maybe, and his hair was long. The Laurens siblings were cute when they were young. Even Martha, for the first seven years of her life, looked almost healthy, with round cheeks and big smiles.

Alex accidentally spluttered out a laugh at a picture of John with his two front teeth gone. John nudged Alex’s cheek with his hand but smiled nonetheless.

Martha was tired still, so she gave the book to James and stood up, requesting Alex to take her to bed. Alex walked her up the stairs of the house and helped her into a large tee shirt. She sat down on her bed and dug through her suitcase for a second, before pulling out a book. It was A Room Of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf. She handed it to Alex, smiling.

“You’ll like it, I think.”

“I’ll read it.” Alex meant that.

“We should live together. Be happy.” Martha took Alex’s hand. “I’ve always wanted to live with my friends, eat breakfast together, watch bad movies, go out to shows.” She didn’t smile. “It’s silly, but-”

“It’s not.” Alex looked down. “I wish things were different, for everyone, but especially you.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes glossed over. “Alright, well, I’m going to sleep now. I’m still a little high, and there’s a lot to do tomorrow. Goodnight, Alex.”

Alex kissed Martha’s cheek and helped her into the blankets. “Goodnight, Martha.”

They didn’t tell each other they loved each other, but the sentiment was there.


	26. New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all's comments make my day

Alex woke up early, before John, and began to pack. He didn’t bring much in the first place, so it was easy to get his shit together. The army had taught him to pack like nobody's business. He could be packed up with his bed made in minutes. He was quiet about it though, letting John sleep for the first time that whole trip. Alex wore an old white tee shirt with a faded Pepsi logo on it. John called it Alex’s bootlicker shirt. It wasn’t Alex’s though. Some twink had left it at his apartment before he moved in with John, and he kept it as a trophy reminder that yes, he was capable of sex.

The morning air in Philadelphia was brisk and cold. Alex still sat outside though, John’s trench coat wrapped around him, a book in his hand. Alex wasn’t sure what time it was, not really, but he read for a few hours before the door opened again. Martha stepped out with two mugs. Her hands were shaky, but she managed to sit down without spilling any coffee. Alex thanked her softly and took a sip of the coffee, then set it on the stoop before closing his book and setting it on the step. Martha leaned against Alex’s shoulder and took a deep breath.

“You don’t smell like John when you wear that, you know?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t smell like him.”

“What does John smell like?”

“Like our father.” Martha turned so her forehead was against Alex’s shoulder. “Like meth, and sweat, and blood, and… bad news.”

“What do I smell like?”

“Like meth, and sweat, and blood, and… good news.”

Alex laughed.

“You’re a good man, Alex.” She shifted so her cheek was leaning against his shoulder. “I would know what a good man is, too.”

“That means a whole lot, coming from you, Martha.”

She hummed, and then closed her eyes. Alex put John’s jacket around her and picked his book back up. If it weren’t for the occasional sip from her coffee mug, Alex might think she was asleep. She wasn’t though, just watching the empty street. Even if Alex didn’t know it, she knew the time. It was about seven am. The sky was the type of blue that made your heart hurt. She had always liked the morning sky though. Sometimes, she would go to sleep at six or five in the evening, just to wake up early enough to see the sky.

Martha found a bag of pills in John’s jacket pocket. She stared at them for a second, they looked like opioids. She shoved them in the pocket of her denim shorts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, by choice and not lack thereof, and decided to prefer that over the feeling of a bra. She didn’t have a pretty body, she never had, no hips, no chest. She made a decent prostitute though because she was willing and ready.

It was sounds in the kitchen that made them both turn their heads. Clara stuck her head out the window, smiling at both Alex and Martha. “Breakfast time. Come on now, I’m making eggs.”

Alex nodded and stood up, downing the rest of his coffee before helping Martha up. John’s trench coat swept the floor on Martha. She hugged it around herself and sat down at the kitchen table. She was cold, and Alex hated that she was cold. He got up and pulled a wool sweater out of his suitcase. It was made by a Bubbe at synagogue for him fifteen years ago. It was warmer than John’s trench coat. He handed it to Martha, and she put it on, giving Alex a grateful smile. Alex took the trench coat and threw it on John, waking him up.

“Ah!” John shook his head, sitting up. “What?”

“Come on, breakfast.”

John shook his head a bit, then got off the futon. He was only wearing boxers, so Alex left him to get dressed. Martha was drinking her second cup of coffee, and Alex accepted a plate of scrambled eggs, putting salt and pepper on it before eating.

When Alex first got back from the war, he over seasoned everything, not on purpose though. The cooks in the army didn’t add salt or pepper to anything, nothing at all. ‘There’s salt on the table,’ they’d grunt at any complaint. They were probably the most respected people in the army though, with their grease-stained uniformed and foreheads blackened and sweaty from the smoke coming off of food.

It took Alex a long time to not automatically dump two tablespoons of salt on his food before even tasting it. He was better about it now though and was capable of adding the right amount of salt and pepper to his eggs.

James came in and sat down, and Mary a few moments later. She was wearing a silk robe that looked too big on her. Alex felt bad for her. John told him that he shouldn’t, that Mary chose her own fate, but Alex didn’t believe that. He didn’t think anyone would choose to be in the situation she was in, or the situation Martha was in, or Hell, even John. Alex couldn’t help but feel bad for her. How many women have been lost in the idea that they could change their men? Alex didn’t know, and he didn’t want to think about it either.

“Would you please eat?” John asked Martha, letting out an exasperated sigh.

Martha just offered John a tight smile and then took a sip of her coffee.

“Why do you even bother? You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” James scoffed.

“Don’t call our sister a dog,” John snapped.

Martha rolled her eyes and gave a tired look to Alex.

“Jesus Christ, John, you can’t seriously be stupid enough to not know that metaphor.”

“Get the fuck outta here with your big city job, your corporate suits, and sticks that your receptionist shoves up your ass every morning.” John scoffed.

Alex took a bite of his eggs and wondered if his parents fought like this. Probably not. His mother was never one to use words in fights. She was just a child when she was taken to the camps. Alex’s father must’ve been too. They probably got on each other’s nerves and hit each other a few times before going to do something else. Alex missed his mom.

“Oh shut the fuck up, at least I’m not devoting energy to a hopeless case.”

That phrase irked Alex. He didn’t think Martha was hopeless. He looked over to see her very focused on her coffee.

“Family isn’t hopeless and if you knew anything about being a good brother, you would know that,” John snapped, standing up.

James mirrored John. “How rich, coming from you, the man who let our father _die_ knowing that-”

“He’s not family, just ‘cause he raped momma until we happened, that don’t mean he’s family.”

“What? And she is?”

Alex was getting irritated.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, you don’t even know it!” John laughed, running his hand through his hair.

“Oh, and look at you, you think you’re such a good brother, where were you for most of our lives, then, huh? You left us, and you didn’t even, even _try_ to get clean so you _could_ take care of us! Huh?”

“Oh, you know what? You’re just-”

Maybe it was the fact that he had been listening to this all week, and maybe it was the fact that this argument consisted of the pot calling the kettle black, but Alex snapped. He was sick of it. He was sick of listening to them.

He stood up and slammed his hands down on the table. “Would both of you just shut up? Both of you are bad brothers! Both of you! You’ve both fucked over Martha and Mary in some shitty way. James, you took in the man who raped your sister silly, and John, you don’t even care that Mary is getting the shit beat out of her at home. Neither of you are good brothers! Not even to each other! John, you only brought me because you wanted to wave your freak flag in your brother’s face, and James, you just…” Alex groaned. “You just take digs at John whenever you can! God! All week, all you’ve done is argue! Well, you’re both just as shitty as the other.” Alex sat back down and put his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ, just one meal, please. Give us one meal where you don’t compare cocks.”

Martha snickered and took another sip of her coffee.

The rest of the breakfast was quiet, and Alex was capable of Alex enjoying the meal. Their train left at eleven, so Clara’s parents dropped Christopher off at ten so everyone could say goodbye. John gave Chris a lighter as a gift, and Alex made sure Clara knew so she could later take back the lighter from her five-year-old son. Martha gave Chris a necklace off her neck, seeing as she was wearing several, and told him that it was a good luck charm, and he just had to hold it and wish really hard for what he wanted, and it would come true.

James was also driving Mary to the airport, so it was John, Alex, and Martha squashed in the back. Martha was in the middle since she fit in the middle, Alex had his suitcase at his feet. He rolled down the window a bit to let air in the car. It was quiet. Alex didn’t know if any of them were going to say goodbye. He wouldn’t be surprised if John and Martha just got out of the car and never looked back.

They were going to the train station first, and when they got there, everyone got out to help with luggage. Alex expected to just walk away, but surprisingly, every Laurens siblings hugged another, saying goodbye, kissing cheeks.

“What kind of dysfunction…” Alex muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. He decided he had no idea how this family worked, and he didn’t want to delve too deep into figuring it out.

They barely made the train, but they got on and found their seats. Alex put Martha’s suitcase up and sat down. John pulled out ketamine and snorted it, then promptly fell back into some kind of drug-induced haze. Alex expected Martha to follow suit, but she pulled out a book and tucked her legs against her chest, and then began reading.

“Do you own a pair of sneakers?” Alex asked.

Martha shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Never need ‘em.”

Alex thought for a moment. “Huh. I don’t think I could wear heels as much as you do.”

“No, you couldn’t.” Martha smiled a bit. “I’m just special.”

Alex chuckled and pulled out his paper and pencil. He hummed a bit, then began to write.

‘ _Pretty girl with shoes too big. Big Bambi eyes with sad smiles that break hearts worse than a cold bed. Skeleton shedding its skin. How sad she can’t be happy.’_

The train ride was a couple of hours. Alex read, so did Martha. She was reading a very, very beat-up copy of The Agony and the Ecstasy. Alex was reading Lonesome Traveler. He had recently gotten into Jack Kerouac. He liked his writing and had picked up a few books by him in a Philly bookstore.

John was still out of it when they arrived back in Manhattan. He was smiling, leaning on Alex. Martha was upright, thank God, and capable of managing herself. Alex was waiting for Lafayette, but Martha had other things to do, so she kissed Alex’s cheek and left. Alex smiled and sat down on a bench with John.

“Alex, hey.” John’s words were slurred, and Alex kept checking for security guards and coppers so that John wouldn’t get hauled off.

“Yeah?”

“Did you know…” John shook his head. “That even though brass knuckles are illegal, you can carry a roll of quarters, under your knuckles, and you… they’re like brass knuckles, but ain’t… ain’t no one can arrest you for… for carrying American currency.”

“You’re such a kethead,” Alex scoffed.

John kissed Alex’s shoulder. “Awh, baby, don’t be like that. Who are we waiting for?”

“Huh? Who says we’re waiting for anyone?”

“You do.”

“Lafayette.” Alex looked at Alex. “We’re gonna go get lunch and fuck.”

“You should fuck before lunch, won’t be bloated.” John rested his head on Alex’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “I’m tired.”

“We’re gonna take you home, first.” Alex smiled and John, patting his cheek. “How does that sound?”

John nodded, giving Alex a dopey Cheshire smile and pecking his lips. “Can’t wait to go home. I miss my couch. I miss my porn. I’m just gonna… smoke a bunch of weed and jack off. Splooge everywhere. Make you clean it up.”

“In your dreams.” Alex chuckled, leaning against John so he didn’t knock both of them over.

It took a few more minutes for Lafayette to show up, but when he did, the wind was knocked out of Alex’s lungs. He wore a long blazer over a football jersey, cropped up to reveal his stomach, as well as some big black doc martens and ripped up denim jeans. Somehow, Lafayette made the ugliest clothes look hot.

Alex stood up, letting John fall down on the bench. “Hey.”

Lafayette smiled softly, taking Alex’s hand. “Hey.”

John fell onto Alex’s shoulder, smiling. “ _Hey_.”

Lafayette patted John’s cheek, chuckling. “Hey, John. How’s your family?”

“Shit!” John laughed, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist before grabbing his groin. “Can’t wait to get home.”

“Guess who snorted a bunch of ketamine on the train,” Alex chuckled, pulling John’s hand away from his dick.

“I’m gonna guess this guy.” Lafayette picked up Alex and John’s suitcases. “Come on, let’s get John home. Let him sleep it off.”

Alex basically kept John upright on the way home. It wasn’t too much of a walk, but Alex was glad to finally drop John on the couch. He got the man a beer, and a few joints filled with stale weed, then put in a porno and kissed him goodbye before leaving with Lafayette. John, when Alex kissed him, had grabbed a handful of Alex’s ass and smiled, mumbling something about it being fat and a good meal. Alex only smacked John’s head and left.

Lafayette kept his arm around Alex as they walked back to his place. Alex, for the first time in the week, was able to breathe. He never realized how much he missed the smell of raw sewage until there was no longer a smell of raw sewage surrounding him.

“God, I need to shower,” Alex muttered. And he did, he had only showered once at James’ place, and he was starting to smell. His hair was greasy at the roots and dry at the tips.

“We can do that,” Lafayette chuckled, kissing Alex’s cheek. “Come here.” Lafayette pulled Alex back, so they were out of the way of the sidewalk. “I missed you.”

Alex leaned in and pecked Lafayette’s lips. “I missed you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

Alex smacked Lafayette’s chest and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, you know I did. I missed you a lot.” He kissed Lafayette again. “Come on, let’s go back to your place, I’ll show you just how much I missed you.”

And Alex held true to that statement, both in the shower and again in Lafayette’s bed, knocking the headboard so hard against the wall that stacks of books fell down, spreading against the ugly magenta shag carpet. They were both breathing heavy, Lafayette’s hand high up on Alex’s thigh, their eyes on the water-stained ceiling. Alex was trying to remember the lyrics to a song he had heard in Philly, but they were loose in his mind.

“Jesus,” Lafayette finally gasped, breaking the silence. “You’re a fucking animal.”

Alex laughed.

“John really hasn’t fucked you yet?”

“Nah.”

“Missing out.”

Alex placed his hand over Lafayette’s.

“Sometimes I want you to live with me.”

Alex snickered. “No, you don’t.”

“Why not?”

Alex shrugged.

“Come on, think about it.” Lafayette sat up and straddled Alex’s waist. “We could wake up early and drink too much coffee and read too many books together. We could make love all day, go clubbing together at night. I’ll cook you breakfast every morning, we can get lunch at the little Jewish deli-”

“Laf-”

“I’m not done.” Lafayette took Alex’s hands. “We could just spend the entire day together, we could walk around the park. Maybe we pick up side gigs, I could work at the auto repair shop down the way, steal cassettes to pawn, you could work at the bar nearby, steal us something from the bottom shelf every now and then. We could fuck in the shower, in the bed-”

“What about Hercules?”

“He’s fine with it.” Lafayette smiled. “Come on, you don’t know it, but he’s not exactly abstinent either. It would be you and me, Alex. We could invite friends over, have big dinners out on the stoop. And when you feel like shit, we can just lay together. You can sit down in the shower, I’ll wash your hair. We can get so high, and laugh and laugh.”

“Laf-”

“Just think about it.”

“Laf-”

“Wouldn’t it be amazing? Just you and me, and we could-”

“Laf!”

Lafayette stopped. “Sorry, I was interrupting you. Go.”

Alex smiled softly, running his thumb against Lafayette’s hand. “That’s… sweet, and you’ve obviously thought about this, but-”

“Oh no.”

“But I couldn’t do that to John. We’ve kind of got a thing going, and-”

“A thing?” Lafayette scoffed and laid back down next to Alex. “Don’t kid yourself.”

“Care to elaborate on that?”

Lafayette sat up and tugged at his hair a bit, thinking. “John’s just… he’s using you. He uses everyone. He doesn’t have a thing with anyone. He has… he has a shitty way of life, and he’s gonna drag you down with him.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You’ve known him for what? A year and a half? I’ve known that mother fucker since he got here, and lemme tell you, he eats greed for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“Laf-”

“Look, I don’t want to fight about this. John is just… he’s a whole other thing. You could spend days on that.” Lafayette sighed. “Just, think about it, okay? My bed is definitely too big for just me, and…” Lafayette got sheepish, and his face got hot. “I like having you around, you know?”

Alex smiled, sitting up and kissing Lafayette’s shoulder. “I like being around.”

Lafayette turned and kissed Alex’s mouth. “Come on, I’m hungry. You wanna order in or go out?”

Alex thought for a moment. “Let’s go out. I’m sick of home-cooked meals right now.”

Lafayette chuckled. “Borrow some shorts and a tee-shirt from me, please. You look homeless, and straight, which is… ugly.” Lafayette pulled out some cuffed denim shorts and handed them to Alex, and then a tye-dye shirt. “That’ll make you look presentable.”

“You think homeless people are ugly?” Alex mused.

“No, but I think straight people are ugly. No sense of color theory.”

“And you have one?” Alex chuckled, looking at Lafayette’s mustard yellow pants with a pine green tee shirt and a pair of bunny boots.

“No, but I don’t need to. I’m queer.” He leaned over his vanity and put an earring into his left ear. “Come on, baby, get dressed. I wanna see how you look when you’re not dressed like someone from a James Dean movie.”

Alex chuckled at that, slipping on the shorts, and then the tee shirt. “I need a belt.”

“I got you.” Lafayette handed Alex a thick leather belt and then watched Alex slip it on. Lafayette smiled, grabbing Alex by the hips and pulling him closer. “There, now you look queer.”

“I do?” Alex mused.

“Uh-huh.” Lafayette tilted his head to get a better look at the hickeys on Alex’s neck. “Really queer. What do you want to eat?”

Alex shrugged. “Thai would be good.”

“Thai it is then.” Lafayette took Alex’s hand and they left the apartment. It had been a week since Alex had known the feeling of peace, but right then and there? He had it. 


	27. Next

It was morning when Alex felt John’s arms wrap around him. Alex was at the counter, cooking some eggs, when John snuck up behind, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist and kissing from his neck to his shoulder. Alex didn’t say anything, just smiled, and waited for John to initiate some type of grinding.

Surprisingly though, the man didn’t. He continued kissing up and down Alex’s neck, occasionally offering a gentle nip to the ear lobe. Alex’s back was pressed against John’s chest, and he could feel the warmth, and chest hair against him. Alex scrambled the eggs, and then just stood there, feeling John’s body against his own. John’s hands were rough, but they felt soft against Alex’s stomach, gently touching the sensitive skin. Alex liked the way John’s lips felt against his neck.

“Morning,” John mumbled, his teeth grazing Alex’s shoulder.

“Morning.”

John smiled, planting a kiss on Alex’s neck. “Eggs?”

“What else?” Alex turned around and let John pin him against the counter. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”

“I’m happy to be home. I’m happy to be with you.” John let his hands fall to Alex’s hips, pulling him a bit closer. “I hate family reunions.”

“I can see why.” Alex chuckled.

“Missed being alone with just you.” John let his forehead fall against Alex’s shoulder and took a deep breath.

Alex smiled, curling John’s hair in his fingers. “I missed being home with you too. I don’t like to travel. Always reminds me of being enlisted.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They moved me all over the place. I went from here, to Kentucky, and then overseas. Made me never want to leave New York, even if I hate it.”

“Do you?”

“What? Hate New York?”

John nodded.

“Nah.” Alex tilted his head to the side. “Maybe when I first came back, maybe when I still lived in the same place my mom killed herself in. But not anymore.”

“Oh yeah? What changed?”

Alex smiled and shrugged, looking at the dirty floor of the kitchen.

“Come on, don’t be a bitch.” John laughed, kissing Alex’s neck. “Tell me. What? You think I’m gonna laugh at you?”

“Yeah.”

John looked up, a boyish smile on his face. “I won’t.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright.” Alex grabbed a fork and took a bite of his eggs. “You. You came into my life, shook it up. Now I have friends, a different place to stay, I’m sort of working, I have… not a purpose, but a reason.”

John laughed. “That’s some sappy bullshit if you ask me.”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

John continued laughing. “I’m not!”

“You’re laughing right now!”

“Prove it.”

Alex hit John in the chest lightly, smiling. “You’re a real piece of work, John Laurens, you know that?”

John smiled and nodded. “Do you mind cold eggs?”

Alex shook his head. “Not really, why?”

John sunk to his knees, smiling up at Alex. “Because your breakfast is going to get cold.”

“I could just eat them while you blow me.”

John paused, then smiled. “I think that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Alex picked up the small frying pan full of eggs, as well as a fork. “I bet I could do it.”

“I don’t doubt you.” John was fiddling with Alex’s belt, trying to get it off.

Alex set down the pan and batted John’s hands away, getting the belt off himself and unbuttoning his jeans.

“Thank you,” John huffed, sheepishly at that. He got to work on what he was set to do, and Alex ate his breakfast, watching the man in front of him. John didn’t look like he had an age. It was weird. His wiry frame and sagged eyes should’ve made him seventy, but his quickness and wit made him twenty. He didn’t have any greys, and wrinkles weren’t something on his face, but he looked tired. He looked like he had lived much longer than he really had.

Alex knew he looked about thirty, it wasn’t hard to tell. He wasn’t skinny or fit as he had been in his early twenties. Now, even a lack of proper nutrition couldn’t work away the small belly he had gained. His five o’clock shadow had stopped making him look rugged, and instead labeled him as tired. He looked like an adult. He looked grown. It was startling sometimes, to see his face in the mirror. He’d rub his chin, shake his head, and ask himself what he had become.

The idea of his own mortality didn’t scare Alex. He came to terms with death a long time ago. In the army, it’s hard not to. But when faced with physical change that represented said mortality? That scared him a bit. He thought he’d always be his fit, ruggedly handsome twenty-year-old self, and then one day he’d wake up and be old and decrepit. Aging didn’t cross his mind. But now, now that he’s seeing physical change, a slow descent into his grave, he’s starting to realize that it’s not death that he fears, it never had been, it’s the fact that he’s dying. There’s no way he hadn’t already reached his physical peak.

There was a time in his life where he could run ten miles in an hour. Where he charmed every girl in the bar, where he was a hero, a face, and a name worth remembering. Now…

Now he’s a joybanger who works odd jobs and eats like shit. He was slowly coming to terms with that change, but sometimes he missed the way he looked in the army. The way he was so fresh and clean cut. He was still handsome, he knew that much. He still had a sloped jaw, messy hair with waves in it, clean white tee shirts, and a smile that wasn’t harsh on the eyes, but it was a different type of handsome. It wasn’t a bring-me-home-to-meet-your-parents kind of handsome, it was an I’ll-drop-you-off-an-hour-late-to-piss-your-dad-off kind of handsome. Alex wondered if he liked that or not.

John was handsome, but not in either of those ways. John was handsome in the kind of way where he fucked you and then stole your panties the morning after to have as a keepsake for his sexual endeavors. He was a sleazy type of handsome, just good-looking enough to get his fingers between your legs, just ugly enough that you got tested the day after. Alex wondered if John had given him AIDs, but he didn’t care that much.

When John was done, he sat back on his heels and leaned his head against Alex’s hip. He smiled up at Alex, his tongue sticking out between his yellowed teeth a bit.

“You are a freak,” Alex mumbled lightly, petting John’s cheek.

John laughed, pushing himself up and pecking Alex’s lips. “You sure I don’t love you?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Positive?”

“Yeah.”

John smiled and shook his head. “You ever watch those black and white movies?”

Alex shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Alright, Casablanca? You ever seen that one?”

Alex nodded.

“Well, you remember the scene, with the airplane, when they’re kissing?” John paused and chuckled. “I always thought it looked so… uncomfortable. Like, they just…” he shook his head and laughed. “I dunno, you know what I mean though? Those black and white movie kisses always look so uncomfortable.”

“They do.” Alex hummed for a moment. “What made you think of it?”

“I dunno, I just like kissing you so much, and I’m thinking about those poor actresses who were just… like, engulfed.”

Alex burst out laughing. “John! What on earth!”

“What? I’m right!”

Alex rested his head against John’s shoulder, chuckling. “You’re a fucking freak.”

“What? How would you describe it? If you’re so smart?”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t know, John. You probably got it right. It’s just… engulfed, god, that’s such a fucking weird way to describe it.” He sighed, curling John’s greasy hair in his hand. “What should we do today?”

“Go for a walk.”

“All day?”

John nodded, kissing the side of Alex’s head. “We could get lunch and dinner. Hotdogs, more hot dogs, Mr. Softee for dessert, hm? Did you have plans or anything for dinner?”

Alex sort of did, he and Lafayette had played with the idea of going somewhere, but Alex decided to call and say something came up. John was being real sweet, and Alex liked that. “I did, but they weren’t definite, so I’ll walk around with you. Where do you wanna go?”

John shrugged. “Let’s walk around the upper west side, look at the fancy houses, dig around in the dumpsters up there.”

“Romantic,” Alex chuckled.

“Rich people throw out lots of shit for no reason. I mean, where do you think I got my coat? They threw it out, just ‘cause it had a button ripped off.”

Alex suddenly got the image of John sewing a new button onto his jacket, needle between his teeth, and for a moment, John didn’t look so scary. Alex wondered if he took home economics in school. He wondered if John would mend socks for his family, fix buttons, sew tears in dresses. “You are an anomaly, John Laurens. You know that?”

John nodded softly.

They both got dressed, and since it was a hot day, Alex wore the red shorts Eliza made him buy after seeing his stark pale legs which hadn’t seen the sun in a few years. They were short on him, not even at his mid-thigh, so it was a new feeling. Because he had been wearing denim for the past five years, most of the hair on his legs had chaffed off, except for a few awkward patches. He tucked in a white tee shirt and threw on the pair of chucks he owned. Even John had decided to dress for the heat, ditching the trench coat and just wearing his shredded jeans and wife beater.

“You look like Danny.”

“Danny?” Alex looked over at John from the money jar, where they always pooled their cash. Alex was getting some dollars to pay for the food they were gonna eat since John would never think hard enough to realize things cost money.

“Danny, from Grease, when he tries to like… when he’s playing basketball.”

“Don’t tell me you saw Grease.”

“Eliza dragged me to it.”

Alex laughed, shoving his wallet into his pocket and turning to John. “Jesus. That movie was shit.”

“Was not!” John laughed.

“I fucking hate those sweet American dream movies.”

“Didn’t you base your entire life off of James Dean?” John mentioned.

“That’s different, he didn’t fucking…” Alex laughed. “He didn’t sing for money. Like some stupid monkey.”

John wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist. “You are so… so pessimistic.”

“I’m not! I just hate Grease. You know me, I like horror movies. Bet you would too if you weren’t such a fucking pussy.”

John laughed. “Come on, let’s go.”

It was a bit of a walk from John’s shitty apartment to the upper west side, but once they got there, it was amazing. Alex knew if they walked a bit farther north, they’d hit Harlem, Sugar Hill, Washington Heights, all the immigrants from South America lived up there, all the immigrants from Germany, France, Poland, and Ireland lived in lower Manhattan. Then, in the middle, were The Residents. Alex wasn’t allowed to hang out there as a kid. This was where you got the cops called on you if you weren’t careful. Spend a bit too long gazing longingly at the beautiful brick houses, the shiny new cars that get replaced every year or so, or the women picking up the paper in a silk robe with their hair high up in curlers, and you’d get your ass tossed in the slammer for intent to rob, vandalize, or rape.

The restaurants were nice too. There were no hot dog stands, no street-meats, or Mr. Softee trucks. You either lived there, or you fantasized about living there. No one knew about the upper west side and didn’t care for it. It was the American dream and goal rolled into one. It’s whatever everyone wanted. Even if they said they didn’t.

“I don’t think I’d like being rich very much,” John stated as they walked, glancing at the houses.

“No?”

“No.” John looked over at Alex. “I’ve never been rich before, and all the people who are rich, they’re assholes. All they do is eat pate and fucking… I dunno. They’re annoying.”

“Yeah, they are. I think I’d like to have a bit more money than I do right now.”

“Why? What for? What do you want?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Financial security is a lie made up by politicians to make tax bumps justifiable.”

“You just say shit, don’t you?”

John nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“So…” Alex thought for a moment. “Are we just gonna walk around here all day?”

“Fuck no, we’d get the cops called on us. People are peeking through their curtains at us right now.”

Alex glanced around and saw a few curtains shut quickly as he ran his eyes over them. “Huh. Where to, then?”

“Uh, Harlem? St. Nicholas Park is real nice. Sure there’s a greasy spoon nearby.”

Alex nodded. “Sounds nice.”

“Can I be a sappy bitch?”

“Might punch you for it, but sure, go ahead.”

“Can I hold your hand?”

Alex punched John hard in the shoulder, and then took his hand. “Bitch.”

“Pussy.”

Alex rolled his eyes. John’s hand was sweaty, but everything was sweaty from the heat. Alex’s thighs were chafing. The Mr. Softee truck couldn’t have come soon enough. Alex and John sat down on a wooden bench and licked their ice cream cones. John got chocolate, Alex got vanilla. Every now and then, they would lean over and lick the other ice cream cone. It was almost sweet. It reminded Alex of being a child, it reminded him of sitting with his friends and being happy with them.

“Used to pool my money with Martha,” John started, taking a bite of his cone. “We’d pool our money, and we’d go and get ice cream for our siblings. I’d sit James on my lap, Martha would take Mary, they were both too young to really eat it on their own, and we’d have to clean them up entirely before they got home because if Pa saw that we’d gotten them ice cream, he’d be pissed.”

Alex leaned his head against John’s shoulder.

“Always liked Mr. Softee.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was my favorite part of moving up here.”

“Yeah, why did you move up here? Why New York?”

“Ever seen the movie How To Marry A Millionaire? With Marilyn Monroe?”

Alex shook his head.

“Well, it’s about these women, and they move to Manhattan, and they basically try to bang a millionaire. Anyway, it was my mother’s favorite movie. She always wanted to move to Manhattan, live in a big penthouse, something nice. She had an expensive taste.” John chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, she died, but the idea of moving to New York stuck with me. I thought it would be my How To Marry A Millionaire debut. It wasn’t, but it was… it’s still better.”

Alex smiled. “We should watch that movie.”

“Nah.” John laughed, licking a bit more ice cream off of the cone. “Movie makes me sad. Some things I just don’t do anymore, just makes me sad, makes me miss her too much.”

“I don’t have anything like that with my mom. We didn’t really do a lot together.”

John nodded. “I almost envy you for that.”

Alex ate the last bit of his cone. “Come on, let’s walk some more.”

They walked through Harlem, eating whatever street food they could find. The sun went down, and it got a bit cooler, though the heat was still there. John kept his arm around Alex, holding him a bit closer as they walked. The back of their necks were blackened with sweat and grime, but that’s how it always was.

John leaned up against a street light, pulling Alex against him. “Come here, baby.”

Alex chuckled, pulling John into a kiss. “You’re trouble, and nothing but it.”

John tilted his head a bit, leaning it back against the street lamp. “Do you know the word for trouble in German?”

Alex smiled. “Only because it was my mother’s nickname for me. Arger.”

“Huh.” John’s hands went and grabbed Alex’s ass, giving it a big squeeze. “Y’ever been to a bathhouse?”

“Hm?”

“You know, a bathhouse.”

“Don’t know what that is.”

John thought. “Did you ever bathe with other men in the army?”

Alex nodded.

“It ever lead to sex?”

Again, Alex nodded.

“Alright, well a bathhouse is like that, except the whole point of going there is the sex.” John chuckled. “There’s a few around New York, you know.”

“I don’t think you’ve had sex in a year,” Alex accused.

“No, but you might wanna. I dunno, check it out. I’m sure Laf has a million connections to shit like that. He’s the only reason I know about it.”

“So, what? You just sit in like, a sauna or something, naked with a bunch of other men?”

John nodded.

“Huh.” Alex would be lying if the thought of some steamy backroom orgy didn’t turn him on. Or just someone washing his hair. Or both. He made a mental note to ask Lafayette about it.

John was about to light up a cigarette when they heard laughing. A group of men, maybe drunk, were coming towards them. Alex pushed John away from him a little bit. Personally, the man had never gotten physically violent in a pair of shorts that didn’t even reach his mid-thigh, but he was prepared to.

“Fucking faggots,” one of them laughed.

John smiled. “Yeah?” He smacked Alex’s ass hard enough that everyone could hear it very clearly. “What about it?”

“Disgusting.”

Alex grabbed John’s arm. “Not worth it.”

“Yeah, bitch, listen to your fucking whore.”

“Hey, come on.” Alex was trying his best to diffuse the situation.

“Fuck did you just call me?”

“John.”

“You heard me, cock sucker.”

“Dude.”

Alex didn’t really know why he expected John to walk away, but once Alex realized that the three guys John was fighting outnumbered him in every way, he realized he couldn’t walk away either.

The army hadn’t just handed him a gun and fucked off. They taught him to fight. They taught him to fight in a way where you didn’t need to be the strongest to win. A lot of the men there needed that. They could run ten miles no problem but were skinny as a rail and physically incapable of gaining muscles.

So, Alex and John fought the three dudes they had barely even exchanged words with. The fight was stupid, Alex thought as someone hit him right in the face, but he wasn’t enough of an asshole to just leave John to fend for himself.

“Shit, the cops!”

Alex’s head had been hit pretty hard, a couple of times, so it took him a moment to understand why someone said ‘shit, the cops!’ He only realized why they said that when the red and blue flashing filled the street, and John grabbed his hand and took off. Cop cars were following them as John pulled Alex down every which way and then into an alley. He jumped into a dumpster, and Alex followed him. It smelled like old food and rotting flesh. Alex didn’t want to know what that was coming from.

John pulled Alex into a passionate kiss, moaning. “Let’s have sex.”

“What?”

“Right now, let’s have sex.”

“In a dumpster?”

John nodded. “Yes.”

Alex thought for a second, and then decided that he had nothing to lose, so he stuck his hands up John’s shirt and kissed back. John’s hands were on his ass, they were grinding, shit was getting more intense, and then the dumpster opened, and a copper shined his flashlight inside.

“Would you two know about a public disturbance a few blocks down?”

John smiled a boyish smile. “No, sir. We were just enjoying a nice evening. Stargazing.”

The cop let out a bitter chuckle. “Get out, ya fairies.”

Alex had never really been in the back of a squad car before, he had never gotten his mug shot taken, and he had never had his fingerprints recorded, so it was all new. John greeted the woman taking the mug shot like she was an old friend.

“Hiya, Ed.”

Ed looked sad.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“Fiance left me.” She had a voice that sounded like it was from Kentucky, and a body straight off the streets of Atalanta.

“Damn, don’t know how a man in his right mind could leave a face like that.” John turned but gave Ed a side-eye. “You take care, sweetheart. I’ll see you again soon.”

Ed nodded, almost smiling. “Thanks, John.”

The holding cell was hot, and it was small. Alex took a piss, then sat down and leaned against John. He had already called Lafayette, who would be there soon. John hadn’t called anyone, just sat there, and flirted with the cops as they walked on by.

“First time being arrested?” John guessed, watching Alex fidget.

“Yeah.”

“Calm down, it’s not a big deal.”

Alex chuckled.

“It’s not, for you at least. What? You’re a vet, you ain’t got any previous offenses. It’s not like they’re gonna brutalize you.”

“You ever been fucked up by cops?”

“I’ve gotten kicked an inch from death by cops. Don’t matter what you do, they either wanna hurt you, or they don’t. Just depends on who you get.”

Alex nodded. “Laf is coming to pick me up.”

“I’ll wait out the twenty-four hours. I really don’t mind.” John chuckled. “It ain’t that big a deal anyway.” He looked at Alex, tilting his head. “Hey, I had a real nice time today. Just walking with you, talking about whatever, it’s real nice, spending that time with you.”

Alex smiled softly and looked down. “You say all this sweet shit. Shut up, you fuckin’ pussy.”

“Bitch.”

Alex rested his head against John’s shoulder and waited for Lafayette to come. It took a little while, but eventually, Alex was kissing John goodbye, and meeting Lafayette in the waiting room. He was wearing denim shorts and a football Jersey cut off at his stomach. His hair was tied up, and he had a look of smugness on his face.

“Hey, Laf.”

“You smell like rotten food.”

“Hid in a dumpster.”

Lafayette smiled and shook his head, taking Alex’s hand. “Come on, let’s get you in a bath.”

That night, Lafayette showered with Alex, washing his hair, leaving gentle kisses on his neck. They fell asleep together, almost entirely naked, bodies against each other. As he drifted though, Alex’s heart ached at the image of John, alone in that cell, trying to sleep on the uncomfortable bench. He hoped the man was alright.


	28. Heroin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to state that I am in full support of the protestors around both America and the world. The police should be abolished, and black people should not have to fear for their lives every time they step out of their house or stay in their house. All cops are bastards and black lives matter. They have always mattered, and will always matter. 
> 
> If you have the money, please consider donating to bail funds. If you are in the right places, please consider going to protests. If you see information, spread it. White people especially, it's time to step up.
> 
> Also, my tumblr is @ westcoastatlanta, if you send me a screenshot confirming that you donated to bail funds or other organizations working to help the protestors, I will write a one-shot of whatever you want.

John was half on the couch, half off of it. He was completely naked, sweating buckets. It was a cooler day, and since the apartment didn’t have heat, Alex was wearing a hoodie and socks, something he rarely did inside. John had his head buried in a pillow, his face was pale, and he had thrown up on the carpet twice already. It was just acid and beer though, so Alex didn’t bother to clean it up. It would dry, he was sure, and leave not much residue.

John was withdrawing from heroin. It was an ugly scene, as it always was. He was scratching, sweating. He hadn’t eaten or left the couch in twelve hours. Alex was responsible for keeping him clean, so even when John came, crying and begging Alex to let him have some, Alex just ignored it. He had done it before.

A bowl of ice usually helped the man, and his whimpering was getting pathetic, so Alex got one and handed it to John, who sat up and stuck his face in it, then threw up again. Alex groaned, then went into their bathroom and stopped up the bath, before filling it with cool water. He was gonna do some experimenting this time around. He wanted to see if remaining in a cold bath for a while would help John. He got the idea from old psych ward practices. Whenever Alex would cry, his mother threatened to send him there, where they would sit him in a tub and never let him leave, or they would strap him to a table for so long that the bindings could grow into his skin. His mother got creative with her threats.

Alex didn’t have that extreme in mind, but a cold bath might help John with the body pains.

“Come on, dude.” Alex pulled a naked and sweaty John off the couch.

“Please, Alex.” John was crying, hanging off of the younger of the men. “Please, come on, I’m in pain. Can’t you see that? I’m in pain. Please, baby. Please.”

“John.” Alex was grateful for once that John ate once in a blue moon because at least he was easy to carry from the living room to the bathroom. Unfortunately, though, there was no graceful way to put John in that bath, so Alex basically dropped him into the water.

“Ah!” John began shaking violently, trying to lift himself out of the bath.

“Stay! Down!” Alex shoved John’s shoulders, not caring if he got wet.

“Alex! Stop! Alex!” John was crying, shaking, and grabbing at Alex’s shirt.

“John, don’t be a fucking- Shit!” Alex closed his eyes as John pulled him into the bath. John was still wrestling to get out, but Alex managed to pull him between his legs and tug him back down. The water was cold, but not freezing.

“Alex, please!” John was sobbing. “I can’t do this! Please! The water hurts!”

“John, just-” Alex squeezed John close to his body. “Come on, just relax. Hey, it’s okay.”

He stopped struggling but was still crying. His body was shaking, but at least Alex couldn’t tell what was sweat and what was water.

“It hurts,” John groaned.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Alex loosened his grip around John’s waist again.

“I hate you.” John started to cry again. “I need you to get me off.”

“What? John, come on.”

“It’ll only take a second, please.”

Alex sighed, then reached his hand down between John’s legs. Two seconds later, he furrowed his brows. “What the fuck?”

“Fuck you.” John let his head lull back on Alex’s shoulder. “Everything hurts so much.”

“I know.”

“I hate the way water feels on my skin.”

“That why you don’t shower?”

John nodded.

Alex put his hand to John’s forehead. “You’ve cooled down, you can pull the plug. I was just trying something out.”

John leaned forward and pulled the plug, then leaned back. “I hate this, I hate the way I feel. I’m never doing heroin ever again, or I’m never not doing heroin ever again. I’ll just shoot up every time I come back down. I’ll never work again. I’ll just…” John shook his head. “I’m done.”

Alex had heard that a million times before. “Alright.”

John was like a useless newborn baby when he was withdrawing. He was whiny, needy, and annoying. He ate nothing, and then he ate everything. Alex once watched him eat ten burgers and then proceed to dig some moldy pizza out of the trash. Alex hated dealing with a withdrawing John, but in the end, it was always kind of worth it, because, for the next month, Alex wouldn’t have to make sure John wasn’t foaming at the mouth and in need of a cold shower and a babysitter for twenty-four hours.

Alex got out of the tub and let John lean back in it, eyes closed. Alex wet a washcloth with cool water and put it on the back of John’s neck, then left the bathroom. It was nice out, even if it was chilly, so Alex grabbed a book and a blanket and sat out on the fire escape. He was there for an hour before the phone started ringing

“John’s place, Alex speaking.”

“Hiya, sweetheart.”

Alex smiled, leaning against the wall. “Hey, Laf.”

“What’s going on?”

“John’s in withdrawal town, I’m babysitting.”

Lafayette let out a breath of air. “Oof! Alright, that sounds miserable. Is he at the phase where he eats everything in sight?”

“Not yet, but it’s coming.”

Lafayette chuckled. “I got an idea. An idea for all three of us. I’ll buy five boxes of pizza, bring over a few comedies, we can all sit on the couch and watch the film and eat as much as we want. Yeah?”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Oh my God, we’re co-parenting John.”

Alex laughed. “You’re right.”

“See? Who says queers can’t be good parents?” Lafayette sighed happily. “Alright, I’ll be there in half an hour maybe? Will you be able to parent until then?”

“Yeah, I think so.” A small smile came to Alex’s lips. “Cheese, yeah?”

“Yeah. You guys got tea?”

“We do.”

“Alright, sweet. Tea usually helps John calm the fuck down when he’s withdrawing.”

“Noted.”

“See you soon.”

“See you soon.” Alex hung up and pulled out some tea, rolling up some joints. He walked back in the bathroom to find John still in the tub, still sweating, staring at the ceiling with a blank look on his face. “You alright?”

John jumped, looking at Alex. “Holy fuck. I was like, somewhere else just now.”

Alex laughed, leaning against the doorway. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” John pushed himself up. “Who was on the phone?”

“Laf.”

John began scratching at his arms a bit, which already had a red rash of blood rising to the skin from excessive scratching. Alex helped John out of the tub, and then into their bedroom. He got John to get on a pair of loose shorts and a tee-shirt, then sat him down on the couch. John was shaking, he was leaning against Alex for support to stay upright. He was crying without crying. Alex had never really withdrawn from heroin. He had done it, he’d had a few days of being off and itchy after it, but nothing like this. Nothing like poor John.

“Laf is coming over with pizza and a film,” Alex told John, gently running his fingers through John’s hair.

John nodded, leaning against Alex’s hand.

“Gonna get some food in you, alright? Lay down, relax for the night.”

John began to actually cry.

“You alright?”

John shook his head and leaned more into Alex. Alex ran his fingers through John’s hair, letting him cry. John cried for about fifteen minutes, then sat up and wiped his cheeks, sniffling. “Tell anyone about that and I’ll-”

“Kick me out, I know.” Alex got up and got some water and a beer for John. “Come on, drink. You want some tea?” Alex was received with a nod, so he got the joints he had rolled earlier, then handed one to John and lit it up. “If my math is right, today should’ve been the worst of it.”

“Nah, tomorrow.”

Alex was pretty sure John was wrong, but not sure enough to argue.

Lafayette got there with a few films and six pizzas instead of five. He sat on the other side of John, putting his arm around the withdrawing man as well. Monty Python’s Life Of Brian. Alex had seen a few Monty Python things, and he didn’t care for it, but apparently, withdrawing John loved it. He cackled and laughed and choked on his pizza a couple of times.

As John was reaching forward to get more pizza, Lafayette leaned closer to Alex. “John loves this Monty Python shit when he’s delirious with pain. Don’t know why.”

“‘Cause it’s fuckin’ funny,” John interrupted, leaning back. He put his arm around Alex, pulling him closer, then leaned against Laf. “Thank you guys for being here. Least favorite part of the withdrawals was being alone in it. I’m glad you guys are here.” John paused. “Even if you try to waterboard me.”

“I did _not_ try to waterboard you!” Alex gasped.

Lafayette sat up. “Wait, what happened?”

“I just shoved him in the bathtub to get his temperature down,” Alex scoffed.

“While he was withdrawing from heroin? Damn!” Lafayette shook his head. “That’s cruel as shit! This greasy shit ball doesn’t shower for a reason, Alex.”

“He was burning up, there was no bucket of ice big enough to cool him down. I let him drain it after he cooled down.”

“He was mean to me.”

“Awh, was he mean to you?” Lafayette held John in his arms, kissing the top of John’s head. “Was he mean to my Johnny?”

“You two are ridiculous.” Alex scoffed and folded his arms.

“He’s so mean to me.” John leaned against Lafayette a bit more. “He waterboards me, and he makes me eat carrots.”

Alex rolled his eyes.

“He sounds terrible.”

John paused, then smiled, and tackled Alex against the couch. “I’m kidding, I love him.”

“No you don’t,” Alex reminded.

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure.”

John kissed Alex, then jammed his tongue in Alex’s mouth and made the kiss instantly gross by licking the roof of Alex’s mouth.

“Fucking disgusting!”

John grabbed Alex’s crotch and smiled. “You’re cute.”

“Drop dead.”

John smiled.

Three movies went by, and John passed out, upside down on the couch, a burning blunt in his mouth. Alex grabbed it and snuffed it, then began cleaning up. Lafayette ejected the movie and met Alex in the kitchen.

“Hey, shorty.”

“Hey.” Alex leaned against the counter. “What’s up, gorgeous?”

“Not much.” Laf touched Alex’s side. “You think any more about what I said?”

“What did you say?” Alex was playing a little dumb, but he hadn’t thought about it. He hadn’t thought about what would happen if he moved out of John’s place. He felt so bad for John, he did, but at the same time, he didn’t really want to live there anymore. John wasn’t really a ‘live with’ friend, he was a ‘come over for a beer a couple of times a week’ friend. Alex did wonder what living with Lafayette would be like.

“Come on.”

Alex sucked on his bottom lip for a second, looking everywhere but Lafayette. “I dunno.”

“If you don’t want to, don’t be afraid to say no.”

“It’s not that.” And it wasn’t, Alex meant that. “I’m just… I don’t really know. It’s kind of a big decision. I’ve just… I’ve been living here for almost two years now, and I just… I dunno. You know?”

Lafayette smiled. “Yeah, I know. Look, think about it. My offer doesn’t expire.”

“Mm, yeah.” Alex hooked his fingers on Laf’s belt loops. “I know.”

Lafayette leaned down and kissed Alex’s neck.

Alex didn’t want it to lead anywhere though, he wasn’t feeling particularly sex motivated, seeing John at rock bottom with a shovel certainly played a part in that, so when Lafayette started nipping at the soft skin on his neck, he pushed away a bit, laughing.

Lafayette just smiled, taking Alex’s hands. “Hey, you okay? Seeing John like that, it’s not great. You wanna talk about it?”

“Nah.” Alex really just wanted to be alone. “I’m just tired.”

“You want me to head out?”

Alex shrugged, but he meant yes.

“Alright.” Lafayette kissed the side of Alex’s head. “Call me or something when you get lonely. I’ll be around.”

“I know.” Alex watched Laf grab his jacket, then waved as he left. Alex then turned and washed a few dishes, before finding John’s heroin stache and taking some out. Just because John was getting clean, didn’t mean Alex had to.

He was going through a depressive episode, he knew that much. He had learned to be productive during such episodes though, so John wouldn’t get bored of him. He learned how to hide it when he couldn’t be productive though.

Alex tied up his arm and patted it, looking for a vein. “Come on, come on.”

Veins were getting harder for him to find, recently. He remembered a story John told him about someone who could shoot up in their eyeball. It made him feel sick. Alex tied his arm tighter, ignoring the tingling in his hand, and waited for something to pop up. It took a bit, but finally, a vein popped up under the bruised skin. Alex wondered if it was permanent scarring, or if the bruise would fade if he just stopped for a while. He didn’t care to find out.

Alex heated up the heroin on the spoon, waiting for it to melt, then pulling it up into the spike. He melted a bit more than usual, but he really didn’t want to risk a dud of a high. He pushed the heroin in and then undid the tie, laying back and waiting for the high to hit. When it did, it hit him like a bag of bricks. His tongue fell out of his mouth, he had an orgasm almost instantly, and his whole body went limp. The world around him got real soft.

When he came down from the high, he didn’t even want to get up. He just stared off at the ceiling. He felt nauseous, he felt tired. He wanted to shoot himself. He wondered if that was just the drop from the high, or if he actually wanted to die.

He had to sit up when he began choking on his own tongue. He was still a little high, so he didn’t notice it had fallen back in his mouth until his gag reflex was triggered, and he sat up, coughing and gagging. Alex sighed, getting up and going into the bathroom. He splashed some of the cool yet brownish water on his face, then cleaned up the needle and drugs. He didn’t want to sleep, so he turned on the TV, finding some infomercial station. He popped a few goofballs paired with LSD and sat back, letting the influence take over his body.

The TV turned into background noise as he began to hallucinate. Maggots crawled out of his skin and fell onto the couch, The floor turned into browned skin, sewn together. Shadows danced across the wall, voices sang off-key. He pissed himself without realizing it. Alex didn’t want to be high anymore.

“Hey.”

Alex shot up, gasping.

“Whoa, whoa.”

Alex saw only John. The high had mostly worn off, it was some hours later, the world was new again.

“Hey, you alright?”

Alex groaned, shaking his head.

“Well, go shower. You pissed yourself, been sitting in it all night.”

Alex groaned, rubbing his head. “Fuck.”

John took Alex’s place on the couch, stretching out. “You were right, I feel better today.”

Alex nodded, clutching his head as he stumbled into the bathroom. He shook off his clothes and got into the shower. It was cold today. He was glad for that. He stood under the water for a long time before moving. His body was shivering by the time he washed his hair. Soaping himself down was barely manageable, as he kept dropping the soap. When he managed to turn off the water, he quickly dried himself off before going into the bedroom and laying down, pulling the blanket over him. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, he kept getting chills.

“Hey, you alright?”

Alex groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.

“Something happen?”

“I’m tired.”

It was quiet for a moment, then John got in bed next to Alex, pulling him into his arms. John was warmer than Alex, which was rare, but Alex curled into John’s chest, groaning. John ran his fingers through Alex’s damp hair.

No words were spoken between them, but no words needed to be. Both were feeling like shit, both felt like their life force left their body. Neither of them had the energy to do anything, so the sun passed them by, and they spent the day in bed, sleeping, holding each other, trying to ignore the ache in their joints, and the hollow feeling in their chests.


	29. We're Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at a time before the George Floyd protests, and re-reading the beginning of this chapter hits a little different right now. Anyway, here's your reminder that this author supports the BLM movement and could give less than half a shit about a fucking Kroger, because automatic doors can be replaced, but black lives can't.

“Weird to think that our hookups have only been legal for like, six months,” Lafayette muttered, taking a long hit off of his joint and staring up at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” John agreed.

Alex let out a long sigh, then licked his lips. “I feel like a commercial.”

“You guys ever read any James Baldwin?” Lafayette asked.

A chorus of no from the two other men filled the room.

“He’s this black writer, born in Harlem. He left New York about forty years ago, went to France to escape the stifling racism and bigotry, as he put it. Wrote books that talked about race, sexuality, and class. My favorite is Giovanni’s Room. It’s about a man who’s frustrated with his relationships with other men, especially this dude named Giovanni.” Lafayette let out a long sigh. “I wish there were more black writers.”

“Yeah?”

“Sick of worshipping the white man’s art. Sick of being black in America.”

“You wanna be white in America?”

“No.” Lafayette took a breath. “I want my blackness to not be threatening.”

“KKK wants to give us our own state,” John pointed out.

“Don’t want that either.” Lafayette sighed. “I love you, John, but racism affects you and me very differently.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I dunno.” Lafayette looked like he did, but didn’t want to get into it. “Just wish there were more black writers.”

“Why do you think there aren’t?” Alex asked.

“Black education is a joke. Only reason I got a head on my shoulders is ‘cause my aunt gave me my schooling, and my father before her. Were up to Regan-” Laf took a long hit from his joint. “I’d be picking cotton right now.”

Alex was quiet. He had never really heard Lafayette talk about racism. It wasn’t really a topic that came up.

“Fuck Regan,” John muttered.

“Fuck Regan,” Lafayette agreed.

Alex took a deep breath. “Fuck Regan. Fuck Carter too.”

“Fuck the government.” John shook his head. “We oughta just… arm ourselves. Take them down. Form some type of militia. Like the Black Panther Party.”

“They’re being taken down as we speak. Assassinated, arrested. Besides, the war on drugs is taking down a lot of good people. Brown and black people ain’t shit to the government,” Lafayette muttered.

“Damn straight,” Alex mumbled. He was laying on the floor, trying to stop the room from spinning. He was really way too high to be talking like this.

John and Lafayette kept talking, Alex buried his face in a pillow and fell asleep. He had mixed pot with goofballs and some liquor, so he really wasn’t feeling the high. He just wanted to sleep it off, and, when you take three downers, you tend to get knocked out pretty fast. Alex woke up on the floor to a quiet room. It was light when he fell asleep, and now it was dark. There was a note on the floor next to him that read something about John and Laf going out to a bar together. Alex brushed it away and ordered some take out, then called Martha.

“Martha Laurens speaking,” she muttered when she picked the phone up.

“Hey, you busy?”

She hummed. “Not really, why?”

“John’s out for the night, I have some good horror movies, and I just ordered enough takeout to feed an army, though there’s no pressure around that, you wanna come over? I’ll put on coffee right now, and you can bring tea. I’ll gladly heat up water for you for the rest of the night.”

“You got beer?”

“It’s probably skunked, but yeah.”

“Great, be there in twenty.”

Alex smiled and hung up the phone, then got out the beer, put on a pot of coffee, and pulled out whatever bags of tea he could find in the cabinet. He washed the two biggest mugs, picked up the living room a bit, and then got the blanket from John’s bed just in case Martha got cold. He also grabbed a sweater for her, just in case she was dressed as Martha usually dressed.

Alex pulled out a few movies Martha might like and sat back, waiting for her knocking. The takeout got there before her but was still hot when she got there. Noodles, orange chicken, rice, and more noodles. Alex gave Martha a pair of chopsticks and let her pick The Godfather. She wasn’t wearing much, and immediately wrapped herself in the big blanket and sipped a steaming mug of coffee. Alex kept the TV low since he did want to talk to Martha.

“How have things been?” Alex asked, taking a big bite of his chicken.

Martha shrugged. “Could be worse, I guess.”

She looked so skinny. Alex frowned a bit. “I got some white rice for you. Are you hungry?”

She shrugged. “I’m always hungry, Alex.”

“Well, do you want to eat?”

“I never want to eat.”

Alex let out a soft sigh, then gently touched her knee. “Well, if you do, it’s there.”

She pressed her lips together. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Alex gave her a warm smile. “Has really nothing been going on?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t really do a lot.” Martha laughed a bit, sipping her coffee. “What about you? It’s not often you get the place to yourself, huh?”

Alex shook his head. “No, not really. I got high off my ass though, Laf and John ditched me. Well enough too, they were talking about racism, and I’m really not the person to speak on that topic. I don’t really know shit about it.”

Martha laughed. “So you and Laf, are you guys fucking, or is it like, strictly platonic?”

“Nah, we’re fucking.”

“He’s got a good dick, don’t he?”

Alex laughed. “Martha! How do you know that?”

“I don’t tell John everything!” She smiled and sipped her coffee. “He’s way too protective of me. I’m a grown-ass woman, I can make my own choices.”

“He’s your older brother, of course, he’s protective. Mine wouldn’t let me out of his sight.”

Martha groaned. “Being a younger sibling sucks balls.”

“Could be worse,” Alex pointed out.

“Guess so.” She leaned against Alex a bit, huffing.

Alex glanced back at the movie for a moment, and then back to her. “How do you think John would react if I told him I wanted to move out?”

Martha shrugged. “I dunno, he’s pretty attached. Why? Do you want to move out?”

Alex tilted his head a bit, thinking. “I haven’t really decided. Lafayette offered to let me move in with him, I think he really likes me, but like, at the same time, I don’t want to leave John alone.”

“Why?”

“Because like…” Alex gestured to the whole apartment. “I think he’d die. Like, I’m genuinely concerned if John didn’t have someone living with him, he would die.”

Martha rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Alex.”

Alex raised a brow.

“John lived alone for three years before you came along. The reason you feel like he relies so heavily on you is because the moment a crutch is offered to him, he takes it and leans on it until it breaks. Honestly, you can either live here until you snap, overdose, and end up dead in a dumpster with some rando’s jizz between your legs, or you can leave while you’re still sane.”

“I don’t think I’m a crutch.”

“Yes, you are.” Martha shook her head. “I love my brother, I really do, but God, he is far from perfect. One of the issues with growing up without any normal relationships is that you will never have any normal relationships. The only parent who John loved would occasionally do a bunch of bath salts and snap, the other parent was constantly abusive, he had a boyfriend twice his age who quite obviously used him for sex, no girlfriends or boyfriends moving forward, weird relationships with his siblings. He doesn’t know what being friends with someone is, he doesn’t know what being in a relationship is.”

Alex was quiet.

“My advice? Be friends with John, do your thing, whatever. But distance yourself a bit more. He’s not, he’s not the best person to spend most of your time around. One day he’s gonna get you into trouble, trouble you can’t come back from, and then he’s gonna bail when you need his help. Just… play it safe, alright?”

Alex nodded slowly.

Martha eyed the rice.

“You can eat it.”

“If I eat it, you have to do something with me.”

Alex nodded, deciding whatever it was, it was worth it. “Alright, deal.”

Martha ate the entire to-go box of rice, and then put her shoes back on, standing up. “We’re going for a walk.”

Alex nodded, getting on a pair of chucks. “Okay.”

Before Martha, he didn’t realize someone who weighed seventy pounds soaking wet could walk faster than anyone else on the streets of New York, especially in six-inch heels, but Martha was kicking Alex’s ass. She kept her arm hooked with Alex’s, but didn’t slow down for him, and Alex found his thighs burning a bit as he walked with her.

“Jesus, Martha, slow down,” Alex gasped.

“Not my fault you’re out of shape.”

“You weigh six pounds _and_ you’re wearing heels! How can you be faster than me?”

Martha laughed. “I’m just better than you.”

“Fair enough.”

They walked together in relative silence, mainly because Martha was too focused on counting her steps, and Alex was too out of breath to really say anything. It was late at night, so the streets were relatively empty of people who would give them odd looks, it was mostly drug addicts, fags coming back from clubs. Alex had slept most of the day away, so he felt refreshed and awake, even though it was three am. He didn’t know how often Martha slept, but he assumed it wasn’t often since she looked tired most of the time.

They finally got to central park and sat down on a bench. Martha could’ve kept walking, but she pitied Alex a bit, so took a break for him.

“You do this every time you eat?” Alex asked between heavy breaths.

“Depends on my day. If I walked the red light neighborhood pretty well, had a few clients, I’ll treat myself to something small, if I didn’t, then I usually walk a while, and then I have something to eat.”

“How often do you work in the red light district?” Alex asked.

She shrugged. “Whenever I feel like it.” She laughed. “Thought John was gonna kill me when he found out that I was a hooker. Didn’t like the idea of me doing it.”

“Did you change his mind?”

“Nah, I just stopped talking to him for a while, and then when I did, he didn’t bring it up, and we never really put the subject to peace. I’m okay with that though, I don’t really care what he thinks of my life anyway. There’s only so much approval you can seek from your family, and with my family, it’s not really worth it.”

“Fair enough.”

“You know way too much shit about my family, and I know jack shit about yours.” She pulled one foot up on the bench, resting her chin on my knee. “Come on, spill. I wanna know what made you the way you are.”

Alex thought. “Well, I was born in Germany, to my mother. Her husband left a bit after that. They met when they were seventeen, in Poland, after the camps were liberated. Had my brother, then me. Uh, I lived in Germany with my mom and brother for a few years, and then after my brother died, my mom and I moved to America.”

“Do you know much German?” Martha asked.

Alex shrugged. “Half and half. I forget most of it now, but I used to be almost fluent in it. Uh, after we moved to America, my mom got a job, I went to school. Then, when I was sixteen, my mom killed herself, so I dropped out, worked until I was eighteen, then enlisted in the army.”

“Wow, you had a boring life.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah, not much really went on. My mom was strict, so I wasn’t the kid sneaking out to go do things. I stayed home, read, watched reality TV. All my teen experiences came from porno mags and old rock bands.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you listen to, huh?”

Alex shrugged. “Nothing interesting.”

Martha didn’t buy it. “Come on, don’t be a pussy for a second. Gimme some favorites.”

“I dunno, uh, The Kinks, The Who, Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Velvet Underground, shit like that.”

“Oh, alright, yeah, that shit’s good. You fuck with Lou Reed?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, his solo shit is alright. What about you?”

“Diane Ross, Billie Holiday, Newton-John, and I’m really into Madonna right now.”

“Did you listen to Annie Lennox?”

Martha nodded. “Yeah, when she was on the radio. No one ever thrifted her albums though, so I could never afford them.”

“Did you hear about MTV?”

“Huh?”

“It’s this new TV program, shows music videos and has music performances and shit like that. It like, just came out.”

Martha nodded. “Huh.”

“Yeah, but it looks cool. I’ve only seen commercials for it.”

“Could you find it on the TV guide?”

Alex shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, probably. We don’t get the paper delivered to us, but I’ll buy one, find out when it comes on. You can come over, we can watch it together.”

Martha was quiet for a moment, thinking. “It’s so weird to see how much has changed since I was a kid. I mean, VHS? Crazy. And like, civil rights and all that shit, I mean, I remember watching the news and hearing about Birmingham and then fuckin’... Stonewall. I mean, holy shit. It’s like, we’ve gotten so much progress, and at the same time, we haven’t, you know?”

Alex nodded.

“I dunno, it just feels like our generation was born when we shouldn’t have been. We’re post WWII, we still haven’t seen a lot of radical change to this country, half of us went to fight in Vietnam and came back to a world they didn’t recognize-”

Alex definitely agreed with that.

“-And the other half were too fucked up to go. We’ve got kids born in the seventies who are growing up in a world where movements are outdating them. I just feel like no one should’ve been born for a while, you know?”

Alex laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”

Martha shook her head. “I’m not making any sense. I don’t even know what I mean. It’s just confusing.”

“Yeah, shit’s confusing right now, ‘specially for us.”

She tilted her head and nodded. “Come on, let’s go back to your place. I’ll walk a little slower, okay?”

“Yeah, alright.”

The walk back to John’s apartment was just as quiet as the walk away from it. Martha kept her arm hooked with Alex’s. They passed a group of drunk men, and a chorus of catcalls and whistles followed them down the street. Martha wasn’t even dressed that revealing, at least to Alex, and his prior knowledge of the things she wore. A tight black pair of high waisted shorts, and a white tee-shirt, cropped high on her stomach. She looked like a normal woman. Alex supposed normal woman got catcalled too. It wasn’t unlike him to say a few words when a fine piece of ass walked by, but when it was happening to Martha, it was different. They didn’t know what she had gone through, they shouldn’t be talking to her like that.

The thought hit Alex that he didn’t know what most women on the street had gone through either. He wondered if they got the same uncomfortable look Martha had on her face. Alex began to feel really guilty for all the times he had done that. He had never really thought about it before, it just felt like compliments, but as he stood with the woman getting told she’s got nice legs, a pretty mouth, he just felt sick. He wanted to fight every guy in the group. He wanted to knock them on their asses. He decided to not make a woman feel like this anymore.

“Hey, you okay?”

Martha nodded, swallowing. “It happens all the time, really.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Alex, don’t genuinely tell me you’ve never hollered at a woman on the street.” Martha rolled her eyes. “Nice stems!” She mocked. “You got a nice ass, baby! Hey, sexy! When can I see you?” She shook her head and laughed. “Every woman is beautiful, and every man has to point it out.”

Alex bit his lip and looked down.

“Don’t pull that sorry shit.” Martha smiled and bumped Alex. “It’s whatever. You do it in front of me though, I’ll fuck you up.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. I may weight less than your average dog, but I’m a hooker in New York, I can fuck you up.”

“I believe you.” Alex laughed and the pair fell back into silence. They stopped at the bodega just before they got back to John’s place, and Alex got some beer, cigarettes, and chips. He was still hungry, so he ate the chips as they walked the remaining block to the apartment.

“Hey,” Martha started as they got to the door of the apartment building. “I’m gonna head back to my place, catch a few hours of sleep. Yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Hey, this was nice though.” She smiled. “I like hanging out with you, Alex. You’re like the normal brother I never had.”

“Oh, I’m normal?” Alex chuckled.

“Normal’s good. Evens things out.” She kissed Alex’s cheek and then waved. “See you whenever.”

“See you whenever, Martha.”

When Alex got to the apartment door, he found John, half-conscious, laying outside of it. There was vomit on John’s chin, but not on the floor, so Alex assumed the man’s stomach contents were out on the sidewalk.

“Come on, Johnny,” Alex mumbled, helping the man stand up.

“Alex!” John slurred, smiling. “I couldn’t get my key in.” He held up a toothpick.

“That’s not your key.” Alex opened the door. “And it’s unlocked.”

John laughed and leaned against Alex as they walked in.

“How was clubbing?”

“I honestly don’t remember.” John smiled, then dry heaved on the carpet. Only some spit and stomach acid came up, so nothing Alex had to clean.

“Alright, come on.” Alex led John into the bedroom, then got him undressed and in bed. John laughed the whole time, and then fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Alex sighed and went back into the living room. He opened up a window and pulled the armchair close to it. He grabbed a book and the cigarettes and then began to read, a Marbolo red burning between his lips, and a choice decided in his head.

He was going to move out of John’s apartment.


	30. Verbatim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm we got some violence in this chapter, so be warned.

John had invited a lot of people over, sort of a party, but one where everyone did heroin and passed out in the first ten minutes. Alex had taken his book and got up to the roof of the building, sitting on the edge and reading. It was dark out, but the light pollution gave enough of an aura for Alex to be able to pick up the words. He didn’t know what time it was, but he did know it was chilly. He had on a sweater and some jeans. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but it was something.

Eventually, when Alex got too bored to read, he laid back on the building roof and stared up at the sky. It was pitch black, starless, and empty. Not even the moon was out. Alex could hear the cars in the streets below, honking, and idling in the neverending traffic. He was hungry, he knew that much. He didn’t know when he had eaten last, time had become less and less of an importance. He wanted Chinese or a burger.

“A burger,” he mumbled.

He got up, then walked off the roof and down the stairs, onto the street. It was so rare he ever did anything alone anymore. He would always call someone, Martha, Laf, Eliza, or John would just go with him. It was almost weird, walking the streets alone at this time of the night. The smell of grease and raw sewage was stronger, or maybe the smell of people just didn’t drown it out anymore.

Alex decided he liked walking alone. It was warm out, it was quieter, not entirely quiet though. New York was never too quiet. There were always cars backfiring, music playing from bars, groups of people talking. Alex wanted White Castle, he wanted a bag of a dozen sliders. He loved White Castle sliders. John didn’t like them, but Alex liked to go and get two dozen, one to eat before bed, and then one for breakfast. He learned that if he just left them on the counter and kept the bag closed, no bugs would get in, and he wouldn’t have to eat cold sliders in the morning.

He got to White Castle and ordered a bag of sliders, then waited by the counter. There was one guy behind the counter, he was tall, and slim, with nice hair and pretty eyes. He looked young, maybe twenty, and he had cupid’s bow lips. Alex decided the guy was beautiful. His name tag read Eric.

Alex got his bag of sliders and left the restaurant, finding a bench nearby and sitting down. He ate the sliders and watched the street, watching cars go by and groups of drunk people walking and laughing. He noticed some new fashion trends, more neon, and leg warmers, he had been noticing that lately. Fashion was changing. His classic simple James Dean look was starting to make him look aged, and Lafayette’s colorful clusterfuck was starting to make him look young, even though he wasn’t.

Alex had recently found out just how old Lafayette was. He showed absolutely no signs of aging, but he was forty. It surprised Alex, really. Lafayette always acted youthfully, he showed no signs of change, but he was a solid decade older than Alex. He didn’t care though, neither of them did. 

It was still dark when Alex finished his bag of sliders. He didn’t feel like going home though, so he found an open bar and ordered a beer. There was nothing better than a beer after a bag of hamburgers. It was crappy, skunked, and bitter, but it washed down the food easily.

“Hey.”

Alex turned to see a young man, no older than nineteen, with a feminine face and shaggy dark hair. He looked like some kind of punk and had a scar running across his nose. He wasn’t ugly, he had long lashes and a dimple in his chin, like Kirk Douglas.

“Hey,” Alex replied, taking a small sip of his beer.

“You come here often?”

Alex looked around the bar, at the people. Nothing seemed familiar, so he turned back to a redhead Kirk Douglas and shook his head. “I was just in the area, ate some burgers, and needed a beer.”

He nodded. “I’m Maurice Hall.”

“Alexander. But just Alex.”

“Alright, Just Alex.” Maurice smiled a bit. He had an accent, one that didn’t come from New York. “You smoke?”

Alex nodded, smiling a bit.

Maurice whipped out a pack of Camel cigarettes and held one up to Alex. Alex leaned forward and took it between his lips, then waited for Maurice to light it. He did, quickly, producing a silver lighter. It had a name etched into it, Clive. It wasn’t by any means a beautiful etching. Alex assumed Maurice did it himself.

“Who’s Clive?” He asked.

Maurice shrugged, lighting up his cigarette. “No one important.”

Alex wasn’t stupid. He knew that meant to drop it. “You don’t talk like you’re from around here.”

“Just moved up a few months ago.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex looked him up and down. By looks alone, you couldn’t tell he wasn’t from New York. “What’d you leave behind?”

“California.”

“Huh. Long way to go for more city.”

“Ain’t nothing going on in California but movies and drugs, and I don’t do either.”

“Some say tobacco’s a drug.”

Maurice shook his head. “Nah.”

Alex smiled a bit. “Why New York?”

Maurice shrugged, turning on his stool and leaning his back against the bar. “I ain’t got nowhere better to go, you know?”

“Everyone in New York wants to go to California, everyone in California wants to go to New York.”

“Grass is always greener.”

“Guess so.” Alex took a long hit off of the cigarette, then sipped his beer. “Where you at?”

“Lower west, a few blocks down, you?”

“Lower east. ‘Round Greenwich and Chinatown, that area.”

“Good area.”

Alex nodded. “So what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“You got a safety pin in your ear, man, that ain’t something no Wall Street fucker would do.” Alex chuckled. “You work?”

Maurice nodded. “Bar and grill, upper Manhattan. It’s a fuckin’ walk, but it pays alright, and tips are always good. You?”

Alex shrugged. “When I want to.”

“My apartment’s nearby, you wanna hook up?”

Burgers, beer, and a sweet piece of ass. Alex’s night was getting better and better. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Maurice wasn’t a God in bed, he was a pillow prince, in fact, face in the mattress, ass in the air, and hands gripping the sheets. He made sure Alex used a condom, saying something about something, and then they proceeded to do what consenting adults do when they’re buzzed, alone, and naked. Afterward, Alex laid in bed next to Maurice, smoking cigarette after cigarette and staring at his ceiling.

“Military, right?”

Alex looked over. “Yeah… how’d you guess?”

The boy shrugged, still looking up. “Just have that way about you. Your posture maybe, your walk, I dunno.”

Alex nodded.

“So, you’re just like, single?”

“Complicated,” Alex responded. And it was. So complicated. Alex was actually quite sick of how complicated it was. He hoped moving in with Lafayette would uncomplicate it a little more.

“Complicated in the way where I’m gonna have someone pounding on my door tomorrow night?” Maurice joked.

“Nah.” Alex smiled. “Not like that.”

A nod came from the younger man.

“What about you?”

“Complicated,” Maurice responded.

“Isn’t it always?” Alex closed his eyes for a moment. “Hey, do you want me to get out of here? Or are you okay with me staying over? I don’t care either way.”

“Stay over. If you wake up before me, you can leave. If I way up before you, I’ll cook you breakfast before you go.”

Alex did wake up before Maurice, and he stole the pack of cigarettes off of Maurice’s nightstand, then left the apartment. It was daytime now, early, Alex assumed, since people were dressed for work, and newsboys were hawking papers left and right. Alex bought a bagel and walked back to John’s apartment. He wondered if people were still there, he wondered if _John_ was still there. It wasn’t rare that John disappeared.

Alex got back to the apartment and found someone he didn’t know asleep on the couch. He picked up some water and threw it on them, startling them up. They looked like a meth addict, with their yellow eyes, scabbed skin, bloody hands, rotten teeth.

“Get out,” Alex stated.

“Who are you?” Their voice was croaky, painful to listen to.

“Your worst fucking nightmare, get out.” Alex picked up a half-empty beer bottle and threw it on them as well.

“Fuck!” They muttered. “Alright, fuck. Jesus, fuck. I’m gone.”

After the meth head left, Alex picked up a bit, throwing trash away, looking for old needles, loose pills, anything that he could just collect in a bowl or something. John wasn’t in his bedroom, but he was in the bathtub, half-naked, with vomit on his chin and chest. Alex turned the shower on cold and walked out of the room, letting John gasp and scream.

When John walked out of the bathroom, soaking wet with a towel instead of his underwear, he glared at Alex. “The fuck was that?”

“Making sure you weren’t dead.” Alex held up a mug. “Coffee?”

John nodded and sat down.

“How was your little get together?”

“No idea.” John sipped his drink. “Weren’t you there?”

Alex shook his head. “Left about halfway through. Went to get a burger. Hooked up with some twink.”

John grimaced. “Why?”

Alex shrugged. “Didn’t feel like doing heroin or shit like that. Just wanted to eat some burgers, drink some beer.”

“We could’ve done that together.”

Alex laughed and looked at John. “No, we couldn’t have. You were like… you were passed out. I was hungry. I wasn’t going to wait for you to wake up so I could drag your ass to the lower west side to get some food. It was fine.”

“You had to go spread your legs though?”

Alex flipped John off. “Whatever, prick.”

John rolled his eyes, looking back at his coffee. “You ever bring any of those nasty twinks here, I’ll kick you out.”

“Fine, do it.”

John looked up. “Fuck does that mean?”

Alex shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“No, what the fuck does that mean?”

“Drop it, John.”

“I won’t drop it.” John smacked the side of Alex’s head. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t hit me.” Alex stood up. “Just, okay, look, okay, just forget it, seriously.”

John grabbed Alex’s wrist and yanked him back down. “Don’t you tell me what to do or not do. What’s this all about, you leaving me or something?”

Alex flinched as his shoulder was yanked. “It’s not that big a deal, John.”

“So you are?”

Alex was quiet for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wanted to say.

“Goddammit, are you or are you not?” John yelled.

“Jesus, John, I don’t know!”

“You don’t know?”

“No!” Alex tried to yank his arm away from John’s, to no avail.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t know!”

John stood up, keeping Alex down in the uncomfortable and cracked vinyl chairs. “Answer me, Alex.”

Alex got quiet. He didn’t like what was happening.

John pulled his hand back and slapped Alex across the face. “Alex, you motherfucker.”

Alex tried to pull his arm away still. “John, please, please, God, stop it!”

He didn’t listen. Instead, John pulled Alex up so they were at eye level. “You don’t even have anywhere to go!”

“That’s not true,” Alex mumbled quietly.

“Oh yeah?”

Alex avoided eye contact.

John grabbed both of Alex’s shoulders and squeezed them, pulling him a bit closer. “You listen and you listen close, _Hamilton_.”

When Alex heard his last name from John’s lips, it felt like acid to the face and heart.

“You are _nothing_ without me, you hear? I mean, without me, you’d still be some sad suicidal murderer living in your dead mom’s apartment. Maybe you would’ve done us all a favor and killed yourself by now!”

Alex really didn’t want to cry, he didn’t generally cry, but John’s words felt like kicks to the teeth.

John laughed, throwing his head back. “I mean, Jesus Christ, you can barely even make it on your own. Face it, Alex, without me, you wouldn’t do anything. You’d sit in your perfect little bubble, and put a gun in your mouth for fun.”

“Well, at least I wouldn’t have to sleep with your fucking supplier!” Alex yelled, willing his voice not to crack.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re still on about that?”

“You let him rape me!” Alex’s voice cracked that time.

“You wouldn’t know rape if it smacked you upside your pretty little head.” John laughed, grabbing Alex’s chin. “You’re so fucking stupid, you know that?”

“Let go of me,” Alex muttered.

“No.” John got his face real close to Alex’s. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m not letting you go until you take it back.”

“God, what are you, fucking six?” Alex spat.

John shoved Alex up against the wall, not even flinching at the sound of Alex’s skull hitting the drywall. “You’re a little bitch, that’s all you are. All you do is mope and whine and mope and whine. Sometimes I wanna get a gun and put you out of your misery myself.”

“Eat shit,” Alex muttered.

John shoved Alex against the wall again, and Alex hadn’t a right enough mind to brace himself. His head made a dent in the drywall. John boxed Alex on the side of the head. “You think you’re real tough shit, huh? Think ‘cause you fuckin’ went overseas and killed a few people, you’re all that.”

Alex kicked John in the chin and shoved him off. “You wonder why I want to leave and then pull this shit!”

“God, Alex, you are full of it!”

Alex swung and hit John in the jaw. “Maybe I want to leave, huh? Maybe I’ve got people who treat me a whole lot better in places a whole lot nicer!”

“Well, you’re not leaving!”

“You can’t make me stay!”

“You wanna put money on that, Hamilton?”

They stopped using their words after that. It was a fight, it was a dirty, mean, and painful fight. Alex wished he was faster, wished he could fight like John. He couldn’t though, he was tired, and John still had meth and cocaine in his system. It was rigged from the start.

John had left Alex slumped up against a wall. Blood was coming from Alex’s nose, and he just hurt. He was proud enough to say he got a few good hits in, he wasn’t defenseless, but God, John was like some methed up squirrel. For a moment, during the fight, Alex thought John was going to kill him.

He didn’t though, and when Alex couldn’t physically keep going, John shoved him up against the wall and left. Alex was pretty sure he dislocated a finger. He couldn’t move it, and the knuckle looked all messed up. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, wondering what happened. John had never seemed so angry. He was always angry though, Alex knew that much, but never at him, never like this. He wondered if John had ever killed anybody out of anger, he would believe it if someone told him.

“Hey.” John’s voice was soft, caring almost, as he sat down on the floor next to Alex. He had a beat-up first aid kit in his hands.

Alex eyed the shiner under John’s eye and said nothing.

“Oh, baby, come on.” John took out some gauze and began to dab away the blood under Alex’s nose.

Alex just shrugged John off and looked back down at his bruised hands.

John looked too and sighed, picking up the hand with the dislocated knuckle. “It’s out of place. I’m gonna put it back.”

Alex nodded. He didn’t want John to help him, but he also didn’t know how to put back a dislocated finger. It was starting to hurt, too.

“On three, okay?” John took hold of Alex’s wrist, then the finger. “One-” He popped it back into place.

“Fuck!” Alex gasped. “You said three!”

“You would’ve flinched if I had done it on three!” John laughed. “Come on, lemme clean you up.”

“It’s fine,” Alex muttered.

“Ah, baby, don’t be like that.” John laced his fingers with Alex’s, smiling softly. “I wanna help. Come on, it’s not gonna hurt, I promise.” John’s other hand went to Alex’s cheek. “Just you and me, Alex.”

Alex hesitated, he didn’t like the way John was looking at him but then he nodded. What did he have to lose, anyway? His dignity? Gone with his back molar. Any self-respect? Alex wasn’t sure if he had ever had that. So, he let John bandage him up, every bruise and cut delivered by the man was covered up by him too. John looked a little beat up, but not really more than usual. There was a time in Alex’s life where he could’ve beaten John to a pulp and got a beer. He wished he was still there.

“You’re not really gonna leave, are you?” John asked in a soft voice. He sounded like a child. He sounded so small and pathetic, and… Scared.

Alex wondered if John really wanted him there. If John really cared about him. If John… loved him. Alex was sure he didn’t love John, but John’s feelings for him? That was a bit of a mystery.

“I don’t know, John,” Alex muttered.

John looked heartbroken. “Baby, please don’t.”

Alex shrugged.

John put down the bottle of anti-bacterial he was using and took both of Alex’s hands. “Baby, God, I’d kill myself if you left. I wouldn’t be able to go on.”

“I would still see you, we just wouldn’t live together.”

“Still, I couldn’t do it. Baby, I love you so much.”

Alex was quiet for a moment. “Do you really?”

“God, of course, I always have.” John ran his hand across Alex’s cheek. “You’re everything to me. You’re my best friend. You’re the man I love, the man I’d kill for, the man I’d die for.”

Alex thought for a second. “I don’t really know how to respond to that, John.”

“Just, please don’t leave.” John began to kiss up Alex’s arm, to his neck. “I love you so much, I wouldn’t be able to go on living without you. You’re my everything, Alex. You’re just so good, so so good. If anything ever happened to you, God, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. You’re my everything.”

Alex tilted his head back so John could begin to nip and bite at the sensitive skin. He though for a long time, letting John continue such an action.

“Will you stay, baby?” John took Alex’s face in his hands with the tenderness a husband would afford his wife. “For me?”

Alex bit his lip, staring into those beautiful hazel eyes. John had gorgeous eyes, gorgeous, with short and stubby lashes.

“Well?”

“John, I just, I don’t know.”

“Baby, no, don’t do this to me. I gotta know.”

Alex sighed, trying to not let John’s sad, pathetic eyes win him over. Oh, but John was just naturally pathetic, naturally a pathetic bastard that you wanted to help. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

John smiled, and then pulled Alex into a kiss.

John took Alex right there on the hallway floor. It was both the first, and the last time they would ever have sex. Alex couldn’t help but wonder how many other people John had treated like this, how many other people John had done this too. He didn’t like that thought though, so he closed his eyes and let the feeling of John’s naked body on his own lull him into a meditative state.

Alex didn’t sleep that night.


	31. Hungover in the City of Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always write my books three chapters ahead of the pace I post them so I just finished this one, but this isn't the last chapter.

John and Alex had been doing a lot of drugs together. Alex was okay with it, he didn’t mind the feeling of heroin, he didn’t mind the drugged haze. If he had snapped out of it long enough to check the time on the clock and the date on the paper, he would’ve realized that he hadn’t left the apartment in two weeks. If he had managed to clear his head a bit, he would’ve realized this was John’s goal.

Lafayette had called ten times over those fourteen days. He was getting worried. He hadn’t seen or heard from either Alex or John in far too long. He would’ve at least seen Alex once in this time, called him a few times, but it was just radio silence.

John had been trying to get his doses low, just to be able to have a bit of control over the situation. It helped when Alex was passed out, and someone Eliza, the worried bitch, would come to the door and ask if Alex was okay. Alex hadn’t really talked to anyone but John in a while. All they did really was kiss, do heroin, blow each other, and do more heroin.

It was an early morning when Alex woke up, hungover and tired. There was no food in the house, and he wondered when the last time he ate was. He put on his shoes and left the apartment, going to the twenty-four hours Chinese place down the street. He got a large order of chicken and a large order of low mein, then walked back to the apartment. He was still haggard and probably smelled of shit. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done anything. His arms were itching and bruised, his head spun and ached, and his stomach was as empty as it had ever been, Alex was sure. He hadn’t changed the shirt he was wearing in at least a week and a half, yellow sweat stains and crusty jizz were much more prominent than Alex would’ve liked.

When he got home, he changed into a clean pair of boxers and sat down at the kitchen table. John was sleeping on the floor in the bedroom, so Alex didn’t worry about waking him up. He went through the chicken, and then the low mein, before turning on the shower and stepping in. The water felt weird on his skin, it felt like plastic almost, waxy. It was uncomfortable, but Alex ignored it long enough to get cleaned up, then stepped out and dried off, putting his boxers back on and going back into the living room to make some coffee.

The phone started ringing, and Alex just about had a heart attack. He had been so in his own head, just thinking, that he forgot the outside world could make noises that he wasn’t capable of controlling. He left the pot of water on the stove and picked the phone up.

“Laurens residence, Alex speaking.” His voice was shot, his throat was sore, and he really just wanted to sleep for a few more hours.

“Alex. Hey.”

Alex smiled, pulling up a chair. “Hey, Laf, what’s up?”

“What’s up with you? Haven’t heard from you in just about two weeks.” Lafayette’s tone was worried, but anyone who hadn’t just done a mass amount of drugs for two weeks straight could’ve picked up the almost annoyed edge the man spoke with.

“Hm? Two weeks?” Alex racked his brain for any sign that two weeks had passed in the last two weeks. “Huh. Two weeks.”

“Yeah, two weeks.”

“Sorry, I don’t really…” Alex trailed off, closing his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, sorry, John and I have just been getting fucked up every night, my brain’s a little fried.”

Lafayette was quiet for a moment. “Is that all you’ve been doing these past two weeks?”

Alex snapped out of the daze he had fallen in. “Uh, yeah, yeah.”

“You sound really out of it, are you high right now?”

“I dunno, maybe.” Alex did feel pretty out of it. “I might be. I’m not sure. I just kind of woke up and got a shit ton of food.”

“What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know.”

Lafayette let out a little bit of a sigh. “Well, we’re all worried, we haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh, God, don’t be worried, I’m fine.”

“Just don’t want you turning into John.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” Alex laughed. “If you guys are worried, let’s go get lunch, you, me, and Eliza. Not today, I have a fuck all of a hangover, but tomorrow, I could-”

“Hang up the phone.”

Alex looked over to see John, standing in the kitchen. He looked like a rat, a skinny, mean rat. “Huh? I’m just talking to Laf.”

“Hang up the phone.”

“Alex, is everything okay?” Lafayette asked.

“One sec, Laf.” Alex put the phone to his chest. “John, I’m just talking to Laf, chill.”

“Oh, I know who you’re just talking to. I want you to stop.”

“You’re being a freak.”

John stormed over and ripped the phone out of Alex’s hands, then slammed it on the receiver.

“What the fuck!” Alex yelled.

“I don’t want you talking to him,” John snapped, getting real close to Alex’s face.

“Jesus fucking Christ he’s my friend. We were just making plans to go and get lunch with Eliza.” Alex tried to walk back over to the phone, which had started up ringing again, but John grabbed him.

“I know he was the one you wanted to leave me for,” he growled in a low voice.

Alex rolled his eyes into the back of his head. “I’m not leaving anyone for anyone! Jesus Christ! I wanted to move out maybe a bit ago, but I don’t anymore, will you get over it?”

The phone was still ringing.

“I just don’t understand how you could do this to me!”

“Do what?”

“You could just almost leave me for him, and then you still talk to him even after I found out?”

“Christ, John, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like? Because right now, all I see is a man who promised to stay and then tried to leave.”

Alex felt guilt begin to pool in his stomach. John looked angry, but he also looked scared. Alex hated it when John did this. He had this way about him where he could transform himself into a child again, into a child who’s angry and scared and hurt, and all you want to do is hold him and kiss his head and tell him everything would be alright. But that’s not what Alex wanted to do. Alex wanted to leave the apartment, he wanted to do something.

“Okay, John, look, it’s fine, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay?”

John shrugged and looked down at his feet.

“I just…” Alex stepped forward and took John’s hand. “I’m feeling a little cramped. I just wanna get outta here for a night, I dunno, so something. We’ve been trapped in the apartment for two weeks, John, even you must be feeling a little restless.”

John gave Alex a boyish smile, biting his lip. “Yeah, let’s do something tonight. Do you wanna go to a bar or something?”

Alex wanted to go to a cafe in the afternoon with his friends and drink coffee and talk about books. “Yeah, sure, that sounds nice.”

John leaned in and began to kiss up Alex’s neck. Alex wrapped his arms around John’s waist and leaned into the man, feeling the chapped lips up on his neck. The phone rang again, and they both ignored it. Alex let himself get back into the table, let John kiss him, feel him up. He didn’t really care what the man did. He felt bad. He didn’t want to hurt John. He really didn’t.

The day went by slowly. Alex spent in front of the TV, trying to calm his aching head and nauseous stomach. He didn’t want to go into a bar that night, he just wanted to sleep, but John decided on it, and Alex didn’t know where not wanting to go would lead him.

He put on a pair of clean jeans and a clean tee shirt. He needed to do laundry, he was running out of clean clothes in general. Of course, clean to him now was different from clean to him three years ago. The clean shirt he was wearing had been worn about ten times before, the clean jeans he was wearing had all kinds of stains and shit on them. He wondered if he was becoming John.

John wore exactly what he always wore, stained wife-beater, army green trench coat, and jeans ripped to oblivion. He smiled at Alex, his tongue sticking out between his lips, before they left. Alex felt sick. He wanted to go back inside and lie down. He wanted to bury his head in a pillow and sleep.

The bar they went to was loud and crowded. John ordered them shots and took two instantly. Alex didn’t want to take his, but did anyway. He could feel bile in the back of his throat. He felt like his entire body was shutting down. After two weeks of heroin, pills, pot, speed, and whatever else they could get their hands on, Alex just wanted to eat a vegetable and drink some water. When John left to go put a quarter in the jukebox, Alex asked for some water and chugged it.

“Shit music choices they got,” John muttered when he sat back down.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” John placed his hand on Alex’s thigh. “You recognize who’s playing?”

Alex didn’t. He could barely hear it. His head hurt. “I don’t.”

“New York Dolls!” John laughed. “Come on, Personality Crisis, it’s like, my favorite song.”

Alex smiled softly. “Ah, yeah, sorry.”

“Are you alright?”

“Hm? Yeah, of course, just…” Alex trailed off. He really didn’t have an excuse. “Just tired, honestly.”

“We didn’t have to go out, you know,” John pointed out.

Alex wondered what it would’ve been like if he had just made plans with Lafayette tomorrow. He’d be doing laundry right now, he’d be thinking of restaurants. He’d call Eliza and ask her where she wanted to go. She’d pick some dive in Greenwich. They’d sit in a booth too small, all bunched up together. They’d eat off of each other’s plates and laugh. Lex would let his head fall on Laf’s shoulder, and his hand on Eliza’s thigh. He missed them.

“No, no, I’m fine, I just need to wake up.”

John stood up again, taking Alex’s hand. “Then come on, baby, let’s dance.”

Alex danced to shitty punk music with John as long as he could, then mumbled something about a bathroom break and left. He went into the bathroom and opened up the small window that led into the back alleyway, before opening up a pack of cigarettes and pulling one out. He was alone for a few minutes, and then a very feminine looking man walked through the door.

Feminine was the wrong word.

He was dressed in a ripped up pair of jeans, a shirt with the sleeves ripped off of it. His hair was cut short and shaggy, his shoes were beaten up converse. He wasn’t dressed like a fag. But something about those long, dark eyelashes, the curve of his lips, the slope of his jaw, the width of his shoulders, he looked feminine.

He also looked nervous. He jumped when he saw Alex, biting his lip. He was handsome enough, with pretty green eyes and tan skin. His hair was a dirty blond, he looked almost punk.

“Hey,” Alex muttered.

“Hey.” His voice had a soft pitch.

Alex cocked his head as they stared at each other. “You gonna piss?”

“Yeah, I am.” He sounded like he was reassuring himself, then went into the stall.

Alex wondered why. He seemed like the kind of person to piss in the sink. Lots of people did that, especially when they were drunk. The sinks had more piss stains than the actual toilets. When the guy came out, he washed his hands, and then looked at Alex.

“You have a smoke I can bum?”

Alex didn’t even think as he pulled out his pack. “‘It’s the queer scene in New York, who doesn’t have a smoke you can bum?”

He laughed, accepting the cigarette and lighter that Alex was handing to him. “Sorry, I’m new to town.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex took a long hit off of his cigarette. “Where you from?”

“Arkansas.”

“Huh. I’m Alex.”

“Flynn.”

“Flynn. That’s an interesting name.”

Flynn smiled, tilting his head and leaning against the sink. “I like it.”

“So do I.” Alex looked over Flynn’s shoulder for a second, wondering if someone was coming, then looked back to him. “So, what? College? Drugs? Sick of small towns? No one moves up here just ‘cause.”

“Heard it was the city of opportunity.”

Alex laughed at that.

“No, uh, college, actually.”

“Oh yeah? What for?”

“English. Wanna be a professor.”

Alex nodded, humming. “So, you live around the lower east side?”

“Nah, in the dorms up at NYU, but I heard this bar was a queer bar.”

“Did you?” Alex chuckled. “I promise, there’s a lot more, even closer to you. But yeah, they’re more prominent on the lower west side, lower east side. There’s none in upper Manhattan, and it’s too long a train ride to go all the way up to the Bronx, Harlem, Sugar Hill.”

Flynn nodded.

Alex wanted to hook up with him, but at the same time, he wondered if Flynn was too young. He had a sweet face.

“You wanna go out back and make out for a little bit?” Flynn asked.

“God, yeah, I do.” Alex smiled and stomped his cigarette out on the floor, then took Flynn’s hand. His hands were small and very soft. Somehow, they made it out back without John seeing them. Alex didn’t know if he was still allowed to hook up with other people, but he sure wanted to. Flynn was a good few inches short then him, so Alex leaned back against the wall, legs apart so the kiss wasn’t too awkward. Alex grabbed Flynn’s ass with one hand, and then put his other hand behind Flynn’s neck. It was probably the first time that night he had felt actually good.

Things escalated really quickly, and soon enough, Flynn was shoving a condom into Alex’s hand and pulling them behind a dumpster, out of view from the street.

“Wait, I gotta tell you something,” Flynn started, out of breath with swollen lips.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not…” Flynn searched for the words. “I’m transgender.”

It all began to click in Alex’s mind. “So do you want me to fuck your ass or not your ass?”

Flynn looked almost a little shocked by the bluntness but smiled. “Not my ass, preferably.”

“Alright, cool.” Alex slipped down his jeans and rolled the condom onto his dick. He and Flynn fucked with Flynn’s back against Alex’s chest. They were quiet, Flynn biting the two fingers Alex had stuck in his mouth, and Alex biting Flynn’s shoulder. Alex finished first, of course, he did, but he wasn’t a dick, so he got his knees for Flynn. He wondered if any guy had ever got on his knees for Flynn. Alex had certainly gotten on his knees for Eliza, and she wasn’t even kind of boyish.

“That was hot,” Flynn mumbled.

Alex rested his head against Flynn’s bare thigh. “It was, huh?”

Flynn pulled up his pants, then helped pull Alex up. “Thanks for not calling me a freak.”

“It’s New York. Everyone’s a freak. He without sin, all that garb.”

“Oh, you’re a freak too?”

Alex chuckled.

“How so? Beat dickless, Arkansas, English student.”

“Drug addicted, depressed, army vet with three lovers.”

Flynn raised his eyebrows. “Three?”

“You live here long enough, that’s what happens.” Alex pulled out two more cigarettes out from his pocket and handed one to Flynn. “So, English. Tell me about that.”

Flynn crossed his arms, leaning against the wall and looking up a bit. “I dunno, not much to tell. A bunch of old books written by dead people.”

“Then why do you like it?”

“Those dead people were really good writers.”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite?”

“Book or writer?”

“Both.” Alex slipped his free hand in Flynn’s front pocket, tilting his head.

“I like The Scarlet Pimpernel, the book. And for an author? I’m really into James Baldwin right now.”

“I have a friend who really likes him.”

“Your friend has good taste.”

Alex and Flynn smoked in silence for a bit more, and then the back door opened, and a drunk John walked out. Alex pulled his hand away from Flynn, tucking it into his own pocket and taking a long hit from his cigarette. John looked a bit drunker than he was when Alex saw him about fifteen minutes ago.

“Who the fuck is this?” John slurred, looking at Alex’s companion.

“This is Flynn,” Alex muttered, unimpressed and tired. “We were having a smoke.”

“Looks like a faggot,” John muttered.

“Shut the fuck up,” Flynn snapped.

Alex instantly put his hand on Flynn’s hip, stepping a bit in front of him. “He doesn’t mean it like that. Well, he kinda does. Just, let me handle it.”

“You can’t fuckin’ handle me.” John was so drunk.

“John, just go back inside.”

“You’re gonna fuck him, aren’t you? God, you’re a fucking whore.”

Alex wondered if he could take a drunk John. “Go back inside, John.”

“No.”

Flynn was getting uncomfortable, realizing he had walked in on something he did not want to be a part of.

Alex sensed that, so he grabbed John’s arm, and then turned to Flynn. “Hey, hope I see you around.”

Flynn nodded. “Thanks for the cig.”

“Course.” Alex pulled John out of the alleyway and into the street. “You’re a really buzzkill, you know that, shit brain?”

John laughed. “Whatever, you fucking slut.”

Alex was quiet for the rest of the way home and put John in his room instantly, then put a chair under the doorknob so John would stay in there. Maybe that was fucked up, but he needed to get away from John. He was so sick of him. He was tired of John. He was mad at him, and he felt guilty for being mad at him.

He dialed Lafayette’s number and waited.

“Hello?”

“Laf, hey.”

“Oh, Jesus, fuck, Alex, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Lafayette was quiet. “What happened?”

Alex covered his face with his free hand and took a deep breath of air. “I really wanna move in with you.”

“Oh?”

“But I don’t want to leave John. He says he’d probably kill himself if I did.”

“He’s lying. He says that with everyone.”

“How many people has John had as a roommate?”

“A lot.” Lafayette sighed. “Alex, you just gotta, you just gotta get out of there.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Alex felt his throat tighten. “I’m just… I’m really tired, Laf.”

Lafayette hummed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Alex shook his head. “I”m just gonna go to bed. I just wanted to call you to let you know I was alright, all that.”

“Do you want to go out tomorrow? For lunch?”

Alex did. “I don’t think it would be such a good idea.”

“Oh, yeah, alright.” Lafayette let out a sad sigh. “Hey, uh, you know.”

“I know.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Alright.” Alex’s throat felt like it was clogged with cotton. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Alex hung up the phone, and then went and laid down on the couch. He covered his face with his hands and began to cry. At that moment, he didn’t want to live with Lafayette or John. He wanted to live alone. Why couldn’t he live alone? Or live with someone he wasn’t intimate with? He was so sick of men. He almost hated them.

Alex got up again and went back to the phone. He dialed a number, and then pressed it to his ear. When they picked up, he didn’t bother waiting, he didn’t bother even saying hello.

“We should get an apartment together.”


	32. Hang 'Em High

No one knew it, but this was the morning that everything would change. Alex was sleeping still, which is not something one would do on the day that their whole life was going to be turned upside down, but Alex didn’t know that. So he slept. John might’ve known such a fact, but he was too busy snorting bath salts in the kitchen. Of course, if he hadn’t snorted those bath salts, it wouldn’t have been that day. It would’ve just been another day, and a day would come after it, as most days do, but neither of them would be particularly interesting.

Alex had learned to pay no mind to John's drug habit for the most part, because John was usually into downers, he was that type of person. Alex would do a few uppers when he was really depressed, but he was usually a downer person too. John was generally easier to deal with on downers. He would lay on the couch, jerk off, and sing Elvis songs. Or he’d drag Alex to a burger place and they’d eat until they couldn’t anymore.

Heroin was, in Alex’s opinion, the best drug for John to be on. Because when John was passed out on the couch, it was like Alex was finally getting some alone time on that day. He would pick up a bit, throw trash away, and call whoever he wanted. Lately, that had really been his only alone time. John hadn’t let Alex out of his site for three weeks. Everything was monitored. Alex was getting quite sick of it. But, when John would dose himself up and let his eyes roll back in his head, that’s when Alex would make plans, would talk to people, leave the apartment.

He had been figuring out a living situation. Both parties had agreed to live together, and since Alex was pretty trapped, the other party was the one who was looking for a nice two-bedroom in Manhattan that they could afford. Alex was discretely cutting out help wanted ads from the paper. He was trying to get out, trying to motivate, but his bad days were beginning to really outnumber his good ones.

“It’ll be better soon,” he’d tell himself, putting down the shards of glass he had been holding to his wrist. “I’ll be alright,” he’d say, putting the handful of pills back. “Things will be different.”

His yearning for the feeling of a barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his throat grew stronger though. He was deteriorating. He was cutting himself off more than he already was. He barely even talked to John anymore, and John was the only one there to talk to. Usually, they just kissed, grinded, touched each other, then shot up.

Alex woke up to John slapping him really hard across the face. It rightfully signaled the beginning of the end.

“What the fuck!” Alex yelled, sitting up.

John slapped his own face a couple of times, then pulled a duffle bag out of the closet. “Come on, come on, we’re going somewhere.”

“What the fuck are you on?” Alex muttered, rubbing his face.

“Come on, Alex, come on.” John pulled up a false bottom of the draw and grabbed a handful of cash. “Get up, right now.”

Alex didn’t want to argue, he was too tired to argue, so he got up and got dressed, slipping on his jeans and a tee-shirt. John took off his trench coat and handed it to Alex. “Put this on. Right now.”

Alex shook his head lightly but complied. He was still tired, though he had been sleeping for about twelve hours. John’s eyes were wide, and his pupils were pinpoint. He has a little bit of blood coming out of his nose that he kept wiping away. He put on a denim jacket and then pulled Alex out of the apartment and into the stinking streets of New York. John was walking fast, pulling Alex along much too quickly for how long the man had been awake.

“Stay out here,” John commanded as they stopped outside of a pawn shop.

"John, what are we doing?” Alex groaned. “I’m hungry. Can we get breakfast?”

“No, after.”

“After what?” Alex called out, but John had already walked into the pawnshop. Alex decided that John couldn’t tell him what to do though, and got a hotdog from a street vendor. He ate it quickly though, not wanting to find out what would happen if John knew Alex hadn’t sat outside like an obedient dog.

When John came out, the duffle bag, originally empty, looked fuller, and heavier.

“What did you get?” Alex asked.

“Would you shut up?” John scoffed. “What makes you think it’s any of your damn business?”

Alex rolled his eyes.

John pulled a bandana out from his pocket and tied it around his face, then gave one to Alex. “Put it on.”

“John, what the fuck are we doing?”

“Do it, or I’ll fuck you up so much that Lafayette won’t be able to tell the difference between your ass and your face. I’ll drill a hole in your head and fuck it. Put the damn bandana on.”

Alex got the sense that they were about to cause trouble, he just didn’t know how much.

It’s hard to know what Alex would’ve done if he knew just what they were doing that day. Even years later, Alex would think about that fateful morning and wonder what he would’ve, could’ve done to prevent what happened. He could maybe kid himself into thinking he would’ve done something, but Alex soon forgot the exhaustion he felt that day. It’s very easy to say what is right and what is wrong with Alex’s actions, but the physical act of fixing what wrong he had done, what wrong he was about to do, that’s when things stopped being so easy to understand. It’s always more complicated than one would think.

And Alex was so tired.

There was a bank across the street. Clean marble floors, Greek-esque pillars. Despite what one might think, pawnshops and banks went hand in hand. You walked from the messy hoarder home of things that people ditched for some quick cash, into the clean, air-conditioned building where your shoes squeak on the flooring no matter how old they were.

John pulled Alex across the street.

It was hot out, the temperature of the day had always stuck with Alex. The whole day was hot. Alex wished he could take off John’s jacket. He wanted to go back to the apartment. He was tired, he was uncomfortable. The hot dog wasn’t sitting right in his stomach. Alex wondered how many regulations were actually on street food in New York. He wondered if he had just eaten raw meat.

He wouldn’t have eaten if he had known it would end up on that marble flooring in just ten minutes.

Alex realized about ten seconds too late why John was stopping right outside the door of the bank. Those ten seconds were the fastest ten seconds in human history. Forty babies were born, eighteen people died, and John Laurens pulled a gun out and walked into a bank, then shot two shots in the air.

“Everyone get down on the ground!”

There are a lot of times in one’s life where they think about all they’ve done, wondering what led them up to this very moment. Alex was doing that. He wondered if it was because his mother never showed him what real love was, so some part of him just accepted the poor treatment from John. He wondered what would have happened if he had just paid his rent those years ago, never told John where he worked. Alex wondered what would’ve happened if he had stayed home that Friday night.

He would probably have killed himself by now. He wondered though, as he watched John fire those two shots if that would be better. He wished he could turn around and leave, but John had a grip on his arm, something he couldn’t break out of.

It was early, so there weren’t that many people in the bank. There were a woman and her baby, two Hassidic Jewish men, a father and his son, and a young woman with a pretty face and a big afro.

“John, what the hell.” Alex’s voice was low.

John ignored him though, as he usually did, but did shove a gun into Alex’s hand. “Hello everybody, this is your captain speaking, if you all will please shut up and lay down, we will have a smooth flight.”

The baby was crying.

“John, what are you doing?” Alex gasped.

“Would somebody shut that baby up?” John yelled, walking over to the counter. He was twitching, shaking. He was so high. “Alex, shoot it!”

Alex’s eyes widened, and he looked at the baby and mother. There was a pacifier a few feet away from them. Alex walked over and picked it up, then stuck it in the baby’s mouth. If he knew anything, he knew that pacifiers shut babies up.

Alex had never seen real fear in a woman’s eyes before, but he did when he looked at this mother. He was shaking so bad, her bright red lips pouting, her eyes filled with tears. She was sitting on the floor, with her baby in her lap. Alex could see her hands going white as she held the child closer to her, feeling what she thought to be the last bit of warmth from the child’s body.

Alex turned around and threw up. “John, what the fuck are you doing?”

John turned around, anger in his eyes, then grabbed one of the Jewish men, holding a gun to his head. “Do you want me to kill him?” John’s voice echoed across the building. “Do you?”

“No!” Alex was shaking. He knew men like that. His mother was Hassidic. His Rabbi looked like that. The man was old enough to have been in a concentration camp. Alex wondered if he had.

“Then help!”

Alex nodded, and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as John pulled the gun away from the man’s head. Alex watched the man begin to pray. Alex wished he could pray too. He had never truly connected with religion, he didn’t know why, but he just didn’t. Right now though, he wished he had paid more attention to the prayers he would learn. He wondered, if God was up there, if He still loved him.

Alex continued to wonder that as he held open the duffle bag for a scared employee. She was pretty, with dark hair and a long nose. John was holding a gun to her head.

What would his mother say?

What would Alex’s mother say?

Alex could almost see his mother, her angry face, taking off her head wrap so she could beat Alex without it getting in the way. She didn’t ever fully hate Alex, but she would if she knew what he was doing at the moment. Rachel Hamilton hated thieves, she hated pickpockets and robbers. When she first birthed her eldest son, she started collecting spare change in a jar, just so he could afford a college education. She almost had enough for a semester, and then someone broke into the apartment and stole it. She cried for days, days, and days, because of that jar. Even when she could have something of her own, it was taken away.

The sirens from the cop cars started low, and then grew louder. In the beginning, Alex wondered if it was just his copper jitters getting the best of him, but when John stopped yelling and looked to Alex, he realized they were very, _very_ real.

“The roof,” John decided. He looked to the woman who had been loading money into the bag. “How do you get to the roof?”

“Through the back, there’s a stairwell that leads right to it,” she whimpered.

John grabbed the duffle bag out of Alex’s hand. “Come on.”

“John, I don’t want to run!” Alex admitted.

“You’re an accomplice now, Alex, you either run or you get your ass beat.” John glared down at him.

Alex took a deep breath and then started walking to the back with John. They ran up the stairs and onto the roof. It was still hot, the jacket was making Alex uncomfortable and sweaty. John ran to all sides of the building, looking for a spot where they could jump and make it from one building to the next. Alex had done that before when he was a kid. He’d climb up to the room from the fire escape and jump to his friend’s apartment building, which was right next to it. They’d smoke cigarettes on the fire escape and talk about their dreams.

Alex wished he could go back to that time in his life.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” John yelled.

Alex dropped his gun and wondered if prison was as bad as American propaganda made it seem.

“Fuck!”

He didn’t mind the idea of three meals a day, a nice shower, outside time.

“Goddammit!”

Some prisons, he heard, even offered college classes. Alex had never had a college education. He barely even graduated high school. He wondered if he’d be any better at college.

“Shit fuck!”

Alex didn’t even know what he wanted to study. He wasn’t particularly interested in anything. Maybe poetry though. He’d have a lot of time to write in prison.

John looked at Alex. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Alex nodded. “I know.”

“Fuck!”

The sirens were right below the bank now. The police were here.

John ran to one side of the building, looking over it, then turned to Alex. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“I need to tell you something.”

Alex figured he had nothing left to lose, and if John was going to kill him, then so be it. Alex walked over, tying up his hair as he did. John kept looking over the side of the building, moving a bit. Alex wondered if he was going to jump off, if he was saying goodbye.

“Alex, I need you to know something.” John looked almost frantic.

On the other end of the spectrum, Alex sat, feeling almost at peace. His heart was beating the most normal it had beat in months, his breathing was slowed and he truly, honestly, felt like he was okay. “I’m listening, John.”

John took Alex’s face in his hands. He stared at him intensely for a moment, and then kissed him. It was a long kiss, or it felt long. Every second felt like ten minutes though, when you were hiding on the roof of a bank from a bunch of police.

“John,” Alex mumbled.

“I love you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.” John ran his thumb across Alex’s cheek. “I don’t care what you say, what you do, I don’t care. I love you so much, and I know I’m bad to you, I know I am, but I just, I love you. I love you so much. And I don’t know when or if I’m gonna see you again, so I need you to know now, know that I love you, know that I’d do anything for you, and all I want is your safety.”

Alex was quiet. “John…”

Police began to bang on the door to the roof.

“You know I’d never really want to hurt you, right?”

Alex began to get scared.

“Alex, I just need you to promise me, promise me that you’ll remember that I love you, no matter what. And remember that I don’t… I don’t want you to get hurt, I don’t want you to be hurt, I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“You didn’t even plan this!” Alex began to cry. “You’re not just ruining your life anymore.”

“I know, I know.” John kissed Alex just as the police burst through the door. “I love you, Alex, and I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, life stopped. Alex reached out and grabbed for John, but he was too far away. His hair fell out of its tie, and gravity became a much more prominent part of his life. The whole day had gone in slow motion, but this part, this was the slowest.

In the first half-second, Alex forgot how to breathe. John’s coat flapped around him, his hair got in his face. His arms were outstretched, like the souls in Dante’s Inferno, clawing upwards. Alex wondered, if Hell was a real place, which circle he would make it into. The fifth, he assumed. Wrath and sullenness. He had a pretty shit attitude. He wasn’t good enough to sit in the circle with the other poets, the philosophers.

By the time the first second had ended, thirty percent of the fall was done. Alex had almost entirely come to terms with what had happened. John was still looking at him, still watching him fall. John Laurens had pushed Alex off the building. Alex was falling, what he would guess to be, about forty-five feet onto the hard pavement below.

A second and a half. The was all the time it took to have fallen fifty percent of the way down. Alex’s mind wasn’t racing, he wasn’t seeing his life flash before his eyes. Instead, it was one single memory. It was his mother. She was in the kitchen of their apartment, she hadn’t seen him yet. She was singing something in Hebrew, and it was beautiful. Her voice was like honey. It was smooth, beautiful, perfectly off-key. He could just hear her singing as she cooked the latkes for breakfast. She always cooked them for breakfast. She’d get up at four am, make them every morning. She had so many schedules, lists, itineraries. She controlled her life, more than she had ever got to before.

That was one thing Alex loved. One thing he and his mother had in common. They liked their schedules. Alex missed having a schedule. He wondered if he’d see his mother in the afterlife. He wondered if she’d be there. He wondered what the afterlife even was. He hoped his mother was there, he hoped she was filled out, and not skinny like she had been her whole life. He hoped all the teeth she had were her own. He hoped she’d have no scars. Especially the one on her arm. That was the one where the serial numbers used to be, the ones that marked her. She cut them off herself, with a knife. It was the most ugly and disgusting scar she had, and it was one she had given herself. The irony was not lost on Alex.

Ten feet until the concrete things started to become clear to Alex. All the decisions he should’ve made but didn’t, all the choices that were wrong, all the things he should’ve done sooner. He wished he had kissed Lafayette one last time, he wished he had gotten lunch with Eliza, listened to her talk. He wished he could’ve hugged Martha tight enough to remind her that he loved her.

The average dumpster is six feet tall, with plastic lids left open to make trash slinging easier. Those dumpsters are generally six feet long too. Seeing as Alex was five foot eight, give or take a few, he had a four or five-inch margin error where he would either break his ankle or crack open his skull. He didn’t see this dumpster below him, because he hadn’t the time to look. Three seconds is already too short a time limit to evaluate your life, little less look at what you are about to land on.

The idea though, that he could fall from a forty-five-foot building, into a dumpster, completely unharmed is ridiculous. Which is why he dislocated his shoulder on the edge, and then landed on a bag of empty beer bottles, which promptly broke and left about fifteen flesh wounds in Alex’s back.

Now, if one has ever fallen from a great height, and then landed on their back and received several injuries, one would know how shocking, and painful, the experience could be. Before this day, Alex had been one of the millions of people who hadn’t fallen from a height like that. So now, as he lay there in a dumpster, he could only think about his Mother’s latkes. His mouth watered at the idea of them. He was hungry, he wanted to eat. The fact that his shoulder was out of place, or that he had enough glass in his back to cause serious problems didn’t cross his mind.

It continued to not cross his mind as paramedics loaded him into an ambulance. After that, it was easy to not have anything cross his mind, as he was instantly dosed up with morphine and put right to sleep.

Alex was technically in police custody, so in the hospital, as he slept, he was handcuffed to his bed. His clothes had been removed and put in a bag. He’d get them back whenever he was no longer under the custody of the state. He had no bail and no visitors. Lafayette and Eliza sat outside his room until they knew he was alright, then they left.

Alex woke up momentarily at one point that night. Then he went back to sleep. He knew where he was, he knew those were cuffs on his wrist, but he was almost fine with it.

It was the best sleep he had gotten in years.


	33. Midnight City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter. I'm gonna start publishing a Hamilton/Harry Potter fanfiction with trans characters, no goblins running the banks, house-elves not wanting to be fucking slaves and wizards advocating for them too, and T4T romance.

The criminalization of mental illness in itself is extremely harmful. Without ignoring the number of black people in prison for no real reason, one is also able to acknowledge the number of unjust arrests caused by mental illness, whether it be PTSD riddled vets left to drink on the streets, or people with schizophrenia or autism, pushed to breakdowns and then brutalized by police for it.

Because the idea of mental illness in the early eighties was prehistoric at the very least, handling mental illness in prisons was much farther behind. Of course, Alex wasn’t arrested for mental illness, he was arrested for aiding and abetting in a bank robbery.

The issue with sticking someone with PTSD and depression in a small room and taking away any choice and freedom they had, then leaving them with their thoughts alone, is that it usually triggers something in them, something bad. Alex had a week alone with his thoughts. A week of staring at the same four walls and thinking about every single wrong he had done in his life. Even when Alex was working, in a clean and safe apartment, with routine, he still would stick a gun between his teeth for fun, so when he had nothing, he wanted to pull the trigger.

Some people get off on the idea of self-mutilation, some people fetishize it, some people would like to see it happening in slow motion. Because of this, there will be very little description of what Alex did to himself two nights before his trial.

He left two deep lacerations on his wrists, and when that didn’t work, he left one on his throat. Moments after he made that third laceration, a guard came by, and Alex was quickly rushed to the hospital, where he was stitched and bandaged. He spent the night in the hospital, receiving two blood transfusions, and then was returned the next day and put under constant watch. Alex decided to just sleep for the rest of the time he was there.

What he ended up doing was laying on his side and staring on the wall. He couldn’t eat, his throat hurt too much for that, so he listened to his stomach growl as he zoned out. He wondered what it would’ve been like if he had shot himself that night three years ago. He wondered if he would’ve felt it, or if it would’ve been like falling asleep. He wondered if his mother felt it when she shot herself.

Alex wished he could talk to a Rabbi. He wanted to talk to a Rabbi. He wished he had continued to go to synagogue after his mother died. He wished he had trained to become a Rabbi instead of going to war. He wished he found a nice Jewish girl to settle down with, have a few kids. He would’ve grown out his sideburns, worn all the proper clothes. He could’ve been happy, could’ve studied the Torah, perfected his Hebrew, interpreted and argued and interpreted some more, and questioned the existence of God.

When he wasn’t thinking about his life as a Hasidic Rabbi, he was thinking about how terrible he looked in orange. He was originally in beige, but he became a high-risk prisoner when he tried to kill himself, so he was given orange. He never left his cell anyway, it’s not like they needed to identify him. He couldn’t eat and refused to shower, so they left him in there to rot.

He wished that the fall off the building had killed him. How ironic it would’ve been for both he and his mother to be found with their brains in all the places they shouldn’t be. Alex had always been a little suicidal, even as a kid, but now…

Now he just wanted to die.

He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t scared, he was more at peace with it. The idea of death was parallel to the idea of a warm bath. He was okay with the idea of dying, he was okay with the idea of never waking up. He just wanted to be done with this life.

There was a sect of Judaism that believed in reincarnation. He wondered if he believed in it too. Alex didn’t really have any broad or grand ideas about the afterlife. He wasn’t sure what it was, he wasn’t sure it existed. The Torah talked of an afterlife, but it wouldn’t be very Jewish of him to take those words without a grain of salt.

Any belief of an afterlife that Alex had came to him only for the sake of his mother. Alex wanted the afterlife to be real just so she could be happy. He wanted her to see her sister, her mother, her father. Alex wanted his mother to be happy, even if he hated her.

The morning of his trial, the guards opened his door and told him it was breakfast. He rolled on his side, facing the wall, and they closed it. This had become a routine. For everything. Alex had gotten three people who wanted to see him, and he turned them all away. He just wanted to be alone. He wanted to rot in his cell for the rest of his life. It took three weeks to starve to death, but Alex wondered if it would take less time for him. He wasn’t in the best of shape in the first place.

Around nine am, he was forced out of his bed and into a fresh orange jumpsuit. He had handcuffs on his wrists as he was led into a waiting room. Other imprisoned people were there. It didn’t gloss over Alex’s eyes that most of them were black. He remembered Lafayette saying something about racism in the NYPD at one point. One of them looked so sad, so so sad. It made Alex sad.

Alex’s trial was later in the day, so he sat in that room for a while, messing with the bandages on his arms. He wondered if Lafayette would be there. Alex didn’t want to talk to Lafayette, he didn’t even want to see Lafayette. He didn’t want Lafayette to see him.

Alex looked like a mess. He hadn’t showered in two weeks, hadn’t slept in three days. The bandages around his arms and neck were dirty, with dried blood on them. He hoped no one he knew was out there. He hoped they all stayed home, watched day time television, and forgot about him. He wanted them to move on and be happy. He wanted to go to sleep and never wake up, and he wanted it to have absolutely no effect on them at all.

“Hamilton.”

Alex stood up and then stayed there for a moment. His vision went white, and for a moment, he thought he was going to pass out. He didn’t though, and then followed the guard out of the room and into the courtroom. Instantly, he saw Lafayette, Martha, and Eliza, sitting in the stands. Alex avoided eye contact and sat down next to his lawyer. Alex had only talked to his lawyer twice because he had no intention of pleading innocent.

His lawyer was a stubby man, one provided by the state. He wore a suit that was too big and a tie that was comically too small. The judge was a large man. Alex had never met a judge who was in shape, but then again, he had never met a judge. Alex couldn’t look down at his lap, the gash on his neck hurt too much, so he stared at the American flag. He had once watched John light fire to one outside a veteran bar and then run.

John’s trial had been two days earlier. Alex would’ve had his trial that day too, but he was in the hospital, so it was delayed. Alex didn’t know what John got, he didn’t know where John was. He wondered if John was a free man. If he was, Alex wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t shown up today.

“You may be seated.” The judge’s voice was deep.

Alex and his lawyer had decided that Alex was to testify for himself, and then plead guilty and hope for a deal.

“I would like to call the first witness to the stand, Mrs. Erica Stanford,” Alex’s lawyer started, standing up.

Alex was surprised to see the pretty white woman with the baby. She looked less scared, her hair was done up high, and her lips were still that bright red color. She was the ideal wife, Alex thought. Clean, put together, beautiful, and fertile.

“Please state your name for the record,” Alex’s lawyer requested after she was sworn in.

“Erica Stanford.”

“Please recount what you saw.”

Erica looked at Alex, then back to his lawyer. “I was up early, I was at the bank to deposit my paycheck which I had received the day before. I planned to go shopping for a birthday present for my husband.” She rang a white handkerchief in her hands. “Suddenly, two men walked through the door, and one of them fired off two shots.”

“Mrs. Stanford, do you see one of those men in this room?” Alex’s lawyer asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “But not the one who shot first, the other.”

“Please point to him,” Alex’s lawyer continued.

Erica pointed to Alex.

“Let the record show that she is pointing to my client, Alexander James Hamilton,” Alex lawyer stated. “You may continue, Mrs. Stanford.”

“I was with my son, Allen Stanford. When the first man fired the shots, told us to get down, my son started crying, he’s only six months old.” Her voice got shaky like she was going to cry. “The one with the gun, what was his name?”

“Alexander Hamilton?” Alex’s lawyer filled in.

“No, no, not him, the other one. It started with a J, what was it?”

“John Laurens.”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “He told Alexander Hamilton to shoot my son.”

“Did my client bring any harm to your son?”

“No.” Erica looked at Alex. “He didn’t. He picked up my son’s pacifier and stuck it in his mouth, then walked away.”

“So, despite his partner ordering Mr. Hamilton to bring direct harm to your son, he did not?”

Erica nodded. “Yes.”

“You may be seated.” His lawyer looked down back at his paper. Alex wondered what the man’s name was. He peaked over at the papers on the desk and found it was Jack. Jack didn’t seem to be done. “I’d like to call to the stand the next witness, Yosef Kantor.”

The Jewish man that John had held at gunpoint came to the stand.

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Yosef Kantor.”

“Tell us your recount of what happened.”

“I was in the bank, withdrawing money. Suddenly, two men came into the bank, and one of them fired shots and told everyone to get down. I followed the instruction. John Laurens, he was the one firing the gun, and he told Alexander Hamilton to shoot the baby. Alexander Hamilton did not. They were arguing. Alex continuously asked John Laurens what he was doing, why he was doing this. John Laurens then proceeded to hold a gun to my head and told Alexander Hamilton that if he did not aid in the robbing of the bank, he would kill me. Alex then proceeded to hold up a leather duffle bag while John placed the money inside it.”

“Could you point to Alexander Hamilton?” Jack asked.

Yosef pointed to Alex.

“Let the record show he is pointing to my client, Alexander Hamilton.” Jack looked back to Yosef. “You may be seated.”

The prosecutor stood up. “I would like to call Alexander Hamilton to the stand for questioning.”

Alex stood up as Jack sat back down, and then sat in the witness stand. He was handed a glass of water and then left to be picked apart by the vultures.

“Would you describe your relationship with John Laurens?”

Alex nodded. “I’ve been living with John Laurens for about three years, give or take. I have no exact dates for you.”

“Would you say you two are close?”

Alex shrugged, then nodded. “I don’t think close is the right word for it, but it’s not the wrong word either. I knew a lot about him, he knew a lot about me, we lived close together, but… emotionally? We were pretty distant. I don’t know, I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“Did you know, going into your relationship with Mr. Laurens, that he not only had a serious drug problem but sold drugs, such as heroin and meth, as well?”

“No, I didn’t, but I found out pretty soon after. I kind of figured though, he doesn’t look like someone who prioritizes health.” Alex chuckled.

“So you knew John Laurens was indulging in illegal activity, and you continued to associate with him without alerting the police of his actions?”

“Yes.”

Jack looked like he wanted to scream.

“Did you ever commit any crimes with John?”

Alex nodded. “Yes. I sold, bought, and did illegal substances with him. I also assisted in forging prescriptions so he could get bottles of opioids from pharmacies.”

The prosecutor looked almost surprised. “Were you involved in the bank-robbing?”

“Yes.”

“How involved? On what level of planning did you assist?”

“No level, actually.” Alex swallowed. “John Laurens was on some kind of drug that day, an upper. I woke up to him hitting me and telling me to get up. He… he grabbed a duffle bag and pulled me out of the apartment. We walked to a pawn shop, where I can only assume he bought guns.”

“Were you not there with him?”

“No. He told me to wait outside. I bought a hotdog since he hadn’t let me get breakfast.”

“Were you aware at this point what the plan was?”

Alex shook his head. “No, I was not. I was not entirely sure what we were doing until he fired those two shots in the bank.”

“Should common sense have stepped in by then? You must’ve connected the dots somewhere,” the prosecutor pointed out.

“Yeah, I had just woken up, and I was really…” Alex shook his head. “I was tired and hungry, and I was in my own head. John pulled shit like this a lot, and most of the time, it was just some excuse to drag me to a bar.”

“I’d like to talk about your suicide attempt three days ago. Why now? Why the night before you go to trial?” The prosecutor asked.

Alex took a sip of his water. “The correlation is suspicious, I’m aware, but it wasn’t…” He thought for a moment. “I have struggled with depression since my mother killed herself, and before that even. Uh, I just… I don’t want to be alive.” Alex laughed. “I mean, I just don’t. I wish I had died when John pushed me off that building. I wish I had died a long ago, actually.” He paused, taking a sip of water. “I really don’t… I don’t care what happens to me. I wouldn’t care if someone came into this courtroom and shot me right now. I’m not afraid of the consequences to my actions, trust me. Prison is probably a step up from living with John.” Alex laughed again. “It’s just… yeah. It’s not that I don’t want to be here, it’s that I don’t want to be anywhere.”

The prosecutor was quiet.

“I’m sorry if my honesty had made your questioning a bit hard. I don’t intend to fight for my innocence. I have nothing to hide, really.” Alex sipped his water again.

“May I question my client?” Jack asked, standing up.

“I’ll allow it,” the judge decided.

Jack stood up. “Alexander, will you tell us about your military service?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I went over to Vietnam for a few years, and I did a lot of things I’m not too proud of. I came back to a world I didn’t recognize. I had no friends, since most of them died, and I didn’t even have a high school diploma. I took up work as a dishwasher in Chinatown.”

“Would you say you did good work there?”

“I definitely didn’t do bad work. It’s dishwashing, it’s not that hard.” Alex shrugged. “Uh, then I got fired, for having a relationship with a man, but it wasn’t really a relationship in the first place. It was just… a close friendship I guess.”

“Did the army provide you with the support you needed after you left it?”

“What? God no.” Alex sipped his water again. His throat was beginning to hurt. “I could go on, but talking is beginning to hurt.”

The judge nodded. “Be seated, Alexander Hamilton.” The judge looked to the people in the courtroom. “We will take a brief recess, and decide the verdict when we get back.”

Alex sat down and leaned back a bit. He felt suffocated.

“Alex.”

Alex turned around and saw Laf, Eliza, and Martha. “Hey, guys.”

“Oh, my God, are you alright?” Eliza asked.

“No. I tried to kill myself a few days ago.”

The trio looked almost shocked at Alex’s bluntness.

“Look, you guys really didn’t have to come. I’m just…” Alex shrugged. “Please just go.”

“No.” Martha crossed her arms. “You aren’t alone, and you have people who love you, like it or not.”

“Well I certainly didn’t ask you to get involved,” Alex snapped.

Martha rolled her eyes. “Cut the crap, Alex.”

“Martha-” Lafayette started.

“No, he…” She shook her head. “He can’t just make promises and then pull this shit! That’s not… that’s not fair. It’s selfish. Suicide is selfish, and I’m not just going to let him be selfish. He can’t just expect us to get over him. We won’t.” Martha looked at Alex. “You have responsibilities, you have people who you matter to.”

“Well I can’t just get over it,” Alex scoffed.

“Yeah, but you are able to not take a knife to your wrists.”

Alex was quiet.

“Martha, that’s a little insensitive,” Eliza pointed out.

“Fuck this.” Martha stood up. “I’m going to go powder my fucking nose. I’m not…” She shook her head, looking at Alex. “I don’t know why I ever trusted any man ever, this is bullshit, I just, God, fuck this. I’ll be back when it’s time to announce the verdict.”

Martha left, and Lafayette let out a breath. “She’s in a bad mood.”

Alex swallowed and flinched.

“Does it hurt?” Eliza asked.

“Yeah. They never gave me enough morphine.”

“Alex, you never… you never told us you were feeling that way,” Lafayette pointed out.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Did John know?”

Alex shrugged. “Sort of. He knew I tried to kill myself a few years back, I don’t know.”

Eliza looked down, and then back at Alex. “I’m sorry you got dragged into all this. It’s shit.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah, it is. Whatever.”

Lafayette reached out to take Alex’s hand, and Alex pulled it away quickly. Lafayette looked hurt and confused.

“Please don’t…” Alex sighed. “Just, I can’t do this, whatever this is. I’m not, it’s not like I’ll be your fucking prison boyfriend or something. I’m not-” Alex was getting frustrated and irritable. “I don’t want to be with anyone right now.”

Lafayette nodded.

“Alex.” Eliza bit her lip, fidgeting a bit. “When you get out, we’re still gonna be here for you, you know that?”

Alex nodded. “You don’t have to be.”

“That’s not how it works.” Eliza grabbed Alex’s hand and didn’t let him pull it away. “You don’t get to pick and choose who loves you, who cares about you. Whether you like it or not, the three people who showed up today, we’re with you, no matter what. So grow up. Accept the fact that we care about you.”

Alex swallowed. “What did John get?”

“Five years in the slammer,” Lafayette told him. “Then two years of parole afterward. He pleaded innocent though, and then with all the other charges… they kind of threw the book at him. Were you offered a deal?”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t really know how this is gonna end.”

Lafayette nodded, sighing. “I hope it ends well, I hope you don’t get too long. I mean, it’s not like you… you didn’t really… you have a lot of good going on.”

“I did admit to the distribution, purchasing, and continued use of illegal drugs,” Alex pointed out.

“You’re also a veteran,” Eliza offered. “I mean, you didn’t resist arrest-”

“I was pushed off a building, I didn’t really have that option.”

Lafayette shrugged and nodded. “How are you feeling after that? It’s not every day someone falls three stories.”

“Could be worse. My shoulder is still bugging me though.”

Lafayette nodded.

Martha came back in just before the recess was over, and ignored Alex. She looked like she had been crying. When the judge came back in, he sat down and banged the gavel, then directed the attention to the jury.

“We find him guilty of aiding a robbery, and possession, distribution, and consumption,” they stated.

“Alexander Hamilton, I sentence you to six months in jail and one year of parole.” The judge banged his gavel and the court was dismissed.

“Six months?” Alex shook his head. “Not at all what I expected.”

“You won the judge over with your acts of heroism during the robbery,” Jack stated. “Really, your friend got the book thrown at him. You should feel lucky.”

Two police officers came over to escort Alex away.

“Wait, before I go, Martha, Eliza, Laf.” Alex looked at his friends. “Thank you for being here today. I’ll… when I get out, I promise, I’ll not be such a bitch. I’ll be there.” Alex looked at Martha. “I mean it.”

Martha stood up, her face still hardened. She hesitated, then planted a soft kiss on Alex’s cheek. “I’ll see you in six months.”

“Six months.” Alex looked over his friends. “I’ll see you all soon.”


	34. Ways To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. I have a lot of other stories up, and the one I am writing right now is called Ignite, so go check it out!

Alex never actually looked bad with shorter hair. Buzzcuts made him look like a cop though, so he never went back to that. But longer hair, hair that went down past his shoulders, made him look like a drug addict. And Alex wasn’t a drug addict. So, his hair went down to his chin and got cut when it grew too far past it.

It was easier to manage in the shower too, which was where he sat at such a particular moment. The water wasn't brown, which he learned really did a number on his skin, and hair, and just general being. Ever since he stopped showering in that disgusting shower in John’s apartment, his hair gained back the bit of shine it had, and his skin stopped looking so grey and sickly. That could also be attributed to the fact that Alex was now eating regularly, and not doing the same amount of drugs he used to.

He turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, then shaved and brushed back his hair, slicking it back with some Dapper Dan. He pulled out one small strand though and curled it with his finger, letting it hang over his forehead. 

It was early in the morning, so New York was a pale blue, and the steady stream of business had just begun. Alex stood by the window in the living room, looking at the street, watching the people come from work or from home.

Alex turned and walked into the kitchen, putting some water in a cup for coffee, and getting out the bag of oatmeal from under the cabinet. When the coffee was done, Alex poured a cup and sat down with the book he was currently reading. It was called Black Boy, by an author named Richard Write. It was about Write’s upbringing as a black boy in the racist south, and then his move to Chicago, and the beginning of his writing career and his involvement in the communist party. It wasn’t something Alex would’ve picked up on his own, but he enjoyed it.

Alex had left jail four years ago. Four years of reintegration, four years of life outside of a cell. He barely even remembered what prison food tasted like anymore. Of course, he had never been to prison, prison was for people sentenced more than a year. Alex was just in jail, which was worse and better in different ways.

He made sure no one visited him. He didn’t want them to visit him. Such reasoning was now lost on him, but he was withdrawing from heroin, really withdrawing, and his ego prevented him from talking to the people who knew just how much he wanted to die. Six months wasn’t a long time though, in the grand scheme of things, and jail gave Alex a lot of time to do nothing. He slept for twelve hours most nights, and spent his days reading, writing, and learning to knit. Since he wasn’t one to cause trouble, he was allowed a battery-operated radio. He spent all day sitting in his cell or, when he was allowed, sitting in the cafeteria, knitting, writing down poems when he thought of them, reading when he got bored. By the time he got out, he had knit a soft sweater for Martha.

The knitting needles and yarn were… hard to get. Especially when labeled as a risk to himself and others. It took a month to convince the warden to trust him with the needles. The exchange was that Alex couldn’t have a bunkmate. That bummed Alex out a bit since he quite enjoyed his cellmate, but he bit his tongue and decided it was fair. Alex was pretty sure the warden didn’t care if he killed himself, he just didn’t want prisoners who didn’t weigh one hundred and forty pounds soaking wet to get a hold on two metal shivs.

The six months overall could’ve been worse, at least in Alex’s mind. He didn’t care enough to start anything, to make friends, and he wasn’t strong enough for the guards to consider him a threat. He didn’t respond to their friendly comments though, cops were still cops, and Alex didn’t eat pork.

He was released in late February. He remembered being handed the clothes he was arrested in, he remembered the group of people who had to determine whether or not he was ready to integrate into society. The knife that was originally in John’s pocket, as well as the cigarettes, were gone. The coat, jeans, and shirt were washed clean. Alex asked if he could bum a smoke from the cop at the front desk, who complied.

It was weird, wearing John’s jacket on that first day of freedom. Those six months had supplied a lot of time for Alex to heal, but also time for him to be angry. Angry at John for all the shit he pulled. See, when it comes to abuse, when it comes to trauma, it’s rare one realizes just how bad it truly was until they are no longer in that situation.

Alex would wake up at night, filled with rage, filled with frustration and heartbreak, and he’d get out of bed and do push-ups until his arms felt numb. If he was still angry at that point, he’d do sit-ups until he couldn’t lift himself up anymore. And if at that point, he still saw red around his vision, he’d punch the wall. He’d hit it until the blood from his knuckles made a small puddle on the floor, and the guards called on one of the doctors working in the jail to come and bandage Alex’s hands. Eventually, they left him with some tape, told him to tape up his hands if he was going to get violent. It helped.

By the time Alex got out, he hated John. A year into freedom, he still hated John. Two years in, it was complicated. He hit the third year mark and decided that he didn’t hate John, but the man was not someone he wanted to associate himself with.

When Alex stepped out of that jail, he expected to walk to a bar alone and drink to his freedom. He was okay with the idea of that, but he should’ve remembered he had people who cared about him.

“And like a sinner at the gates of heaven,” a soft voice laughed as Alex had stepped out of the jailhouse.

Alex remembered so clearly, turning his head and seeing Martha. He remembered how tired she looked, how skinny she looked, but also how happy. In jail, Alex decided he didn’t _need_ anyone. And he didn’t, no one does, but the moment he saw Martha, he took her in his arms and didn’t let go until he had to. He kissed her face, he laughed, and because it was cold, he put John’s jacket around her shoulders.

“We should look for apartments again,” Martha had told him. “There’s some cheap housing, opening up in the East Village. Some cute two bedrooms.”

Alex tilted his head. “You sure you wanna live with an ex-convict?”

Martha rolled her eyes. “I lived with my brother for three years, you don’t scare me.”

Alex just smiled. “Come on, I’m starved, let’s get dinner somewhere. I could kill for some Chinese food, or maybe Mexican.”

“A real good Chinese place opened up a few weeks ago, come on.”

Alex and Martha stayed in that restaurant until the sun came back up. Alex ordered a continuous strain of food, and even Martha got a plate of dumplings. They talked about everything and nothing. A conversation about books lasted two hours alone. Not much had happened in those six months, but there was still so much they needed to say.

Alex stayed in John’s apartment until he and Martha got a place to themselves. They both had their own rooms but shared a bathroom, kitchen, and living room. They watched movies every night, they drank bad wine. Alex got a job at a bar in Soho, and Martha started working at Sears.

It was something about how both of them were trying to better themselves that encouraged the other. They had cut down their drug use to just tea and liquor, which was a lot more manageable. Martha had even started eating. Not a lot by any means, but Alex managed to coax her into having oatmeal for breakfast, and then whatever she wanted for dinner. Even if it wasn’t much, it was better than her five-day stents where ice was the only thing that passed her lips.

About six months into freedom, Alex got lunch with Lafayette. It wasn’t too nice, but it played good music and served good sandwiches, so Alex figured it would be a good place to meet Lafayette. They hadn’t truly talked that much since Alex was locked up, so it was nerve-wracking for both of them.

“Hey,” Lafayette had mumbled, sitting down.

“Hey.” Alex had decided to sip his drink just to have something to do besides talk. “Hi.”

Lafayette was quiet. “You look good.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah, maybe.” He did though, even if he didn’t know it.

“It’s just…” Lafayette shook his head. “It’s really good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too.” Alex had smiled, and suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to talk to Lafayette.

No more awkward silences, just comfort. Lafayette had been reading this really good book that Alex would like, Alex had heard of that book but hadn’t gotten around to it, a new bar opened up on the west side, this band released a good album, this director released a good movie. It was just right. It was full of laughter and smiled. They talked for three hours before Alex decided to risk making it awkward again.

“Alright, Laf, I gotta talk to you about something,” Alex began, sighing.

Lafayette had looked up from his bottle of Coke and nodded. “I’m listening.”

“I like you.”

“I would hope so, we are friends.”

“No, not like-” Alex laughed. “God, I feel like I’m in sixth grade again. Look, I want to be in a relationship with you.”

“Oh, you-”

“But a real one.” Alex shook his head. “A relationship that is you and me, not you and me and the guy you hook up with sometimes, and the twinks I occasionally take home, just you and me. With dates, and taking things slow, and no awkward drama with other people, and no…” He sighed. “Like, a normal relationship.”

Lafayette had nodded slowly, brows creased.

“I’m okay with a life that has a little chaos, I am, but I’m not John, I’m not someone who thrives in constant… constant mess and lack of structure. I like having morning routines, I like having sleep schedules. I like planning things. You don’t have to say yes, you don’t have to want to be with me, but I’m laying my cards out on the table for you. This is what I want, but you don’t have to want it too.”

Lafayette hummed. “Alright.”

“Alright? Alright, what?”

The older man smiled, tilting his head. “Alright. Let’s have a normal relationship. Let’s plan dates, let’s have morning routines. Let’s-”

“Well I don’t want you to feel like you need to change yourself for me,” Alex cut in quickly. “I said all that stuff because I need you to know that the me you were fucking a year ago is not the me you would be in a relationship with.”

“Thank fucking God.” Lafayette had laughed loud enough to draw attention to them. “You weren’t exactly boyfriend material a year ago.”

“Alright, asshole.” Alex smiled.

“No, if I’m dating you, then I’m dating your morning routines and your sleep schedules and your planned dates. Besides, believe it or not, there are worse qualities in a man.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Alex bit his lip, then pulled out a tenner and placed it on the table. “Alright, well, I’m meeting Martha and Eliza at a bookstore in twenty minutes, so I should get going. Uh-” Alex pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and grabbed his pen. “Here is my…” Alex was frantically writing so as not to take too long. “My address and number. Just, if I don’t call you tonight, you call me, alright?”

Lafayette had slipped the paper into his pocket and taken Alex’s hand, smiling. “Yeah, I’ll call. Bye.”

Alex leaned down and kissed Lafayette’s cheek. “Bye.”

And just like that, Alex put himself on the trail back to normal. He had set boundaries in a romantic relationship, he had made amends with the two most important women in his life. Things were changing for good. Alex managed to keep a job, pay his share of the rent, and Martha did the same.

His and Lafayette’s relationship progressed slowly, but it was so much more intimate than whatever fucking session that they had ever had. Alex would spend the night at Lafayette’s and they wouldn’t have sex, instead, they would lay in bed and listen to music and hold hands. They would simply be together. Alex had decided he didn’t like sex all that much, anyway. It just didn’t appeal to him anymore.

About a year and a half into the relationship, Lafayette moved in with Alex and Martha. Six months later, they got married. It wasn’t an official marriage by any means, but Alex refused to call Lafayette anything less than his husband. The law had never been something he truly cared about, and what was a piece of a paper when you were in love?

“Mm, hey.”

Alex turned from the window he had been staring out of to look at Laf. The man had just woken up, his hair was up, and he looked drowsy. Alex smiled, then pecked his lips. “Morning, honey.”

“Morning.” Lafayette smiled, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah, didn’t sleep well last night. Went running earlier, then took a shower.” Alex chuckled. “You heard anything coming from Martha’s room?”

“No. I think people who are normal tend to get up later than five am.”

“Ha ha.” Alex pulled up his towel a bit. “Coffee’s in the kitchen, I’m gonna go get dressed.”

“Mm, you’re the best.”

Alex smiled and walked into their room. They had bought a large bookshelf from a Salvation Army, so the place where Lafayette slept was no longer a tripping hazard. It looked good, all his books, in both French and English, lined up. There were piles on both their nightstands too, books they were reading, wanted to read, wanted to re-read. There were probably a thousand books in their apartment alone.

He got on a pair of blue jeans and a Tommy Bahama, then walked back out into the kitchen. Lafayette was drinking coffee, and reading his own book, so Alex sat down next to him and they did that together for the morning, every now and then looking up and smiling at each other. Lafayette’s smile was a smile that Alex loved waking up to, loved seeing.

Despite the slow-moving relationship, Alex fell in love with Lafayette on most likely their second date. When he wasn’t on heroin, living with a psycho, and living a life of suicidal idealization, Alex found Lafayette to be charming in so many ways. He listened, he understood Alex, and when he didn’t, he tried. When Alex was sad, Lafayette would light up a few blunts, and the three roommates would watch movies together and eat shitty take out.

The strange thing was though, as Alex adjusted to his new style of life with friends, a caring husband, and a bit more control than he had ever gotten before, he found he just didn’t get sad at much. Maybe in the mornings, but then he’d shower, and eat breakfast with the people he loved the most, and it just… it changed the mood of the day. The way they would make grocery lists, dick jokes, and dinner together. The lack of loneliness brought a lack of sadness, and Alex enjoyed it.

Martha walked into the kitchen around eight in leggings and one of Lafayette’s tee shirts. She sat down and poured herself some coffee. Martha, over the years, had gained weight. Very slowly, yes, but had gained it nonetheless. She went from a skeleton in fishnet stockings to a person. She was still skinny, yes, but her bones, tendons, and veins no longer stuck out of the skin. She actually shit on an almost normal schedule, which Alex never thought he’d care about.

“Eggs or oatmeal?” Alex asked.

Martha paused, thinking. “Eggs I think.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“Fried or scrambled?”

“Fried, of course.”

Alex smiled and kissed the top of her head, and then cooked her eggs. He then scrambled four eggs for him and Lafayette. In that apartment alone, they bought a carton of eggs about every other day. It was a staple.

“Hey, uh, I got a weird phone call at work last night,” Alex started. “Well, not weird, just surprising.”

Lafayette looked up from his eggs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Alex shrugged, tilting his head. “Uh, yeah.”

“Well, don’t leave us hanging,” Martha laughed. “Who was it?”

“The Metropolitan Correctional Center.” Alex took a sip of his coffee. “John gets released today.”

A hush fell over the table.

“Like, _today_ today?” Laf asked.

Alex nodded. “It’s been five years.”

“Jesus, has it?” Martha ran her hand through her hair. “Wow. Huh. I guess I forgot he was getting out.”

“I think we all did,” Lafayette pointed out.

Alex took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go pick him up from the correctional center.”

“Why? You don’t have to. Are you sure you want to do that?” Lafayette quickly spoke up.

“Yeah, like, really sure?” Martha laughed awkwardly. “I mean, you two have a bit of a history.”

“A bit of a history is even an understatement,” Lafayette reminded.

Alex still had the scar from when he got melted heroin spilled on him. He looked at it now, thinking hard. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Huh.” Martha shook her head. “Is he living here?”

“No.” Alex was sure about that. “I’m gonna give him some money, and he can use it to buy himself a room at the Y until he finds an apartment. He’s not… I’m never living with him again. Besides, there’s no room. We already have three people in a two-bedroom.”

“Well, you two are married.”

“You wanna share a bed with him?” Alex asked.

Martha gagged. “God no, I’d roll over and get AIDs from a needle or some shit like that.”

“Jesus,” Lafayette laughed. “What time does he get out?”

“Round noon.”

“Wow.” Martha put her fork down. “Are things gonna change?”

“No.” Alex shook his head. “I’m married, and Martha, you’re a working woman living with your friends in a nice apartment in the East Village. Why should things change? A million junkys walk the streets of New York, what’s one more?”

“Well, we don’t have a history with those million,” Lafayette pointed out.

Alex sighed. “I don’t want things to change. I like my life, I like living with you guys. I like what we have going on. I don’t…” he shook his head. “I don’t want John to ruin the first good thing I’ve had in a real long time.”

Martha huffed. “Then he won’t. He’s a dick, fuck him.”

“Martha, he’s your brother, you don’t have to-”

“No, fuck him! He’s a piece of shit! Look at what he did to you!” Martha took a sip of her coffee. “Look at what he did to all of us! He’s manipulative, and he’s a fucking asshole. If he wants to go on his heroin binges, snort bath salts, rob banks, whatever, but he’s not dragging us into anymore. We aren’t his fucking parents.”

“Yeah.” Lafayette nodded. “I’m too old for his shit.”

“You’re forty-five, shut up,” Alex laughed.

Lafayette smiled.

“Look,” Alex started. “I don’t think we’re even the type of people John wants to hang out with anymore. Lafayette and I fall asleep on the couch by eight pm, and Martha, you have a retirement fund and order water when we go to bars, which we haven’t even gone to in like, three months. Our favorite restaurant is a Jewish deli where we order soup and sandwiches and eat it at the kitchen table. I love what we have going on, but John would blow his brains out before going to our monthly book club.”

Lafayette smiled brightly. “Speaking of our monthly book club, I’m so excited to talk about A Room With A View.”

“Oh, God, don’t bring it up, you’re making me want to talk about it!” Martha laughed. “I will say that I have a big fat lesbian crush on Lucy.”

“Me, but with George Emerson,” Alex snorted.

“Hey!” Lafayette gasped, lightly smacking Alex’s arm.

“When you kiss me in a field of flowers overlooking Italy, then you win, but until then…” Alex laughed. “I’m kidding, I love you, babe.” Alex kissed Lafayette’s scruffy cheek and then sipped his coffee. “No, uh, I’ll go get him. I’m not gonna give him our address though, or phone number.”

From outside, thunder began to rumble.

“Wow, that sounds like a good omen,” Martha commented sarcastically.

“He’s not a horseman of the apocalypse,” Lafayette laughed.

“We don’t know that, Laf.” Martha pointed a finger and raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, God.” Alex shook his head. “We got this, though.”

“What are you gonna say to him?” Martha asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like, motherfucker ruined your life, you’re not gonna tell him off?”

Alex shrugged. “I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

“Mm, alright. I’d still think about it, though.”

Noon rolled around and Martha, as always, was right, because the moment John’s smug face was within arms reach, Alex pulled back and hit him right in the mouth. No speech was good enough to express the anger and hatred Alex had for John, but that punch seemed to do the trick.

“Alright, I deserved that,” John mumbled, wiping his lip.

“Fuckin’ yeah you did.”

John laughed. “Damn, who pissed in your Cheerios? Thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“Where the fuck did you get that idea?” Alex laughed. “Like, what fucked up part of your head thought that?”

John creased his brows. “Come on, Alex.”

Alex shook his head. “God, I hate you.”

John groaned, taking Alex’s hands. “Don’t be like that, come on, I just got outta prison, you wanna show me a good time?”

“No, I don’t.” Alex took his hands back from John. “Jesus, you are so, so, so fucking self-centered! I went to jail for six months because-”

“Hey, I went for five years!” John interrupted.

“Yeah! Because you should’ve! You robbed a bank!”

“You did too.”

“No, I decided that I didn’t want you killing anyone, so I helped. You held a gun to an innocent man’s head, you, you-” Alex shook his head. “Actually, I don’t know what I’m even arguing with you. You are so in your own head that you can’t fathom the idea you did something wrong. You could never believe that _you_ are in the wrong in a situation.” Alex pushed John’s coat into his hands and then handed him some cash. “This is so you can stay at the Y until you get your own place.”

“Can’t I just crash with you?” John asked. “I mean, I get you’re pissed, but I just got out of prison.” John stepped closer. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

“Don’t do that.” Alex shook his head. “I don’t need you to make it worth my time. I need you to go stay at the Y, get your own place, and then limit your interactions with me to zero.”

“Alex.” John began to look sad. “Please, come on, baby, just, come on. I never stopped loving you. I know what I did was wrong, but come on, baby, you know I can’t live without you. Come on, what about our thing? We had such a good thing going.”

Alex felt like pulling out his hair. “John, I can’t… I can’t be with you, on any level. Frankly, the sight of your face makes me taste blood. And, believe it or not, I’ve actually got a really good thing going for me right now, and I don’t need you to fuck it up.”

John’s face hardened. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that, Hamilton?”

“Oh, John, you got no idea.” Alex ran his hand through his hair. “I mean, fuck. You know what you did to me?” He was trying not to tear up, but it wasn’t working too well. “Shit. God, I cried over you for months, John.”

“Well, you don’t have to cry anymore, because I’m back.”

“You’re missing the point.” Alex sighed. “I don’t want you to be back. Things aren’t just, we aren’t gonna fall back into our little Bonnie And Clyde routine. I have a job, a husband, a pretty great apartment, good friends, and-”

“Wait, wait, back the fuck up. A husband?” John started. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Five years is a long time, John.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t visit me once.”

“I didn’t want to see you!”

“Then why are you here now?”

Alex closed his eyes. “Because I wanted to give you back your jacket. It was the last bit of you I hadn’t scrubbed from my life.”

“So, what, you have a husband and you don’t talk to anyone anymore?”

“No, I just don’t talk to you.” Alex sighed. “Look, John, you changed a lot about my life, and yeah, there were good things, but… I can’t… You drained me of everything I had. I don’t want to be friends with you, or even talk to you anymore.”

“You’re such a fucking popcorn,” John scoffed. “Fucking murder popcorn bootlicker faggot, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

John grimaced. “I never fucking needed you anyway. You were boring and sad, and I was sick of it.”

“I bet you were.” Alex shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m meeting someone for lunch, so, uh, I’m gonna go. Have a good life, John Laurens.”

“Drop dead.”

Alex nodded, and then turned on his heel and started walking away.

“You’re a real piece of shit, Hamilton, you know that?”

Alex put his thumb up, bowing his head a bit, but didn’t turn around. He didn’t even want to turn around. There was no part of him that craved John’s approval anymore, no part that pitied. John was a child, John was a petty, angry, annoying, disgusting child. He was Alex’s biggest mistake, but getting over the man, becoming independent, and unmoved by John’s words, that was his greatest success. Alex was still John’s first real friend, and he was also John’s last real friend. It was entirely John’s fault for that, too.

The beginning of John and Alex was almost great, they were witty, with a dynamic that bounced off each other easily. But John didn’t know how to maintain good relationships. He had both pushed Alex away and become entirely more attached at the same time. Their downfall was such a slow descent though, that Alex didn’t even notice it.

John remained sharp in all the ways Alex was not for the rest of his life. But Alex was soft in all the ways John was not. He loved and lived in a way John couldn’t even imagine; Peacefully.

To say Alex would’ve been better off without John would be a lie. To say Alex would’ve been better off if he had stayed with John would also be a lie.

John was the black death leading up to Alex’s Renaissance.

As the years went by, Alex would occasionally think of John. Never on purpose, but it was hard to scrub your mind of the man who changed so much about you. Every TV dinner he’d see, every empty prescription bottle on the street, he’d think of John’s greasy hair, his warm brown skin, and his skinny legs. Sometimes he’d grimace and distract himself, and sometimes he’d smile. For, Alex meant what he said. There were good, no, great parts of that friendship. Alex learned to forgive and then forgave John. And he was happy.

John never spoke of Alex again, and soon after his release, he moved to Mexico to seek out a new drug scene.

Alex, Martha, and Lafayette lived lives that remained happy until they were no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!
> 
> What was your favorite moment?
> 
> What was your least favorite moment (be creative)?
> 
> What surprised you the most?
> 
> Who was your favorite character and why?


End file.
